


I'll be fine without him -  but all I do is write about him

by goddessbeltane



Series: i slipped - and said something sort of like your name [1]
Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Angst, Anne Shirley in Denial, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is flustered, Dancing, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gilbert Blythe is Whipped, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Muses, Strangers to Lovers, Swimming, Texting, author! Anne, coffee shop AU, gilbert is anne's muse, kids birthday party, medical student! Gilbert, these two will be the death of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 76,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessbeltane/pseuds/goddessbeltane
Summary: Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is an aspiring author, with her first published novel on the horizon. "The Tragical Musings of Princess Cordelia" has been picked up by a publishing company, and things are looking up.One problem - she needs a love interest. And she has complete writer's block.Luckily, a handsome stranger stirs her imagination in a coffee shop, and the creative juices start flowing again. But, when he finds her notebook, things get a little bit complicated, and before she knows it, Gilbert Blythe has agreed to become her muse. Anne is sure that she can keep their partnership simple, but how long can they fool themselves until things start to fall apart?aka: a 'muse' au that nobody asked for, but I will be DAMNED if I don't provide. yes, she's at it again folks. (Updating Weekly!)
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Delphine Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe & Mary Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Josephine Barry & Anne Shirley, Mary Lacroix & Anne Shirley, Mary Lacroix/Sebastian ''Bash'' Lacroix, Ruby Gillis & Anne Shirley, Sebastian ''Bash'' Lacroix & Anne Shirley
Series: i slipped - and said something sort of like your name [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801285
Comments: 243
Kudos: 320





	1. The Writer's Block

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY EASTER!! she's backkkkk :)
> 
> I have been writing this story pretty much since I finished my last modern awae au inspired by the office (btw if you haven't read that one, maybe check it out or somethinggg), but since I started university I didn't want to publish the first chapter without writing up pretty much every chapter after that. Since this is my first multichapter story, I wanted to have everything planned out before hand so that I could update you guys weekly, or as often as possible, with a new chapter. So if you enjoy this first chapter, I'll be posted the next very shortly!
> 
> NOTE: just like the last story, I have never worked for a publishing company or written a novel, so if there are any inaccuracies I apologise in advance. I'm also australian so I don't know much about Canada or the schooling system or things like that, so once again, apologies xx
> 
> Title is from lose a friend - finneas - my god man this song messes me up every time. dw if you've listened to the song and know the context, this story takes the lyric a little bit more literally :)
> 
> Enjoy!

_Her digits slid gently down the stone wall, as Cordelia leant against her elbow at the edge of her windowsill. Her gaze wandered to the bustling streets below her tower, the buzz of the marketplace eliciting an enticing soundscape, filled with the booming voices of shopkeepers, the squeals of young children and occasional neighing of horses, drawing a few carriages through the main roads. She audibly sighed, absent-mindedly tracing her index finger along the cracks between the stones, where tiny patches of moss had crept through the tight spaces._

_She couldn’t help but imagine what life was like out there. Years locked away in security by her family had given her a sheltered life, it was true, but for as long as she could remember, everything she had longed for existed beyond the confines of the palace walls. The freedom to make her own bosom friends, to learn more about the world, to experience all of the wonderful destinations that she had heard of in her stories, to find her one true love-_

“Large almond milk latte for Ann?”

Anne snapped her head up in the direction of the dull question of the clearly uninterested barista by the front counter. She quickly closed her notebook, clipping her pen to the outside of the front cover and pushing herself away from the wooden bench she had perched herself against while waiting for her order. It was that position that had somehow sparked her creative process, imagining Princess Cordelia gazing longingly out onto the slowly crowding marketplace, and longing for a life of adventure beyond what she had always known.

She supposed that she often imagined herself in the place of Cordelia while she had been drafting this particular novel – porcelain skin and deep, raven locks aside. Though, there was little room for mystical adventures in the life of a twenty-first century, would-be author, so Anne settled for those she imagined inside of her stories instead.

As she grabbed the cup from the barista behind the counter, she offered a polite smile and a quick thanks, which he promptly decided to ignore, moving back to his station by the coffee machine. Unsurprising. Anne had always prided herself on her uncanny ability to successfully read people, which led her to mainly using observation as her source of writing inspiration in the past. Glancing at the cup, she immediately flared her nostrils at the sight of the name printed on top of the lid. It was clearly intended to be her name, and she couldn’t fault the guy for trying, but good lord, how uncommon was “Anne”? Emphasis on the E!

Rolling her eyes and moving past her pouty mood, she quickly relocated herself to her usual table, in the corner of the room, against one of the large, glass windows. She sat on the booth side, allowing herself to lean against the cushioned back and relax herself a little.

She couldn’t fault herself for being stressed out at the moment, all agitation from the avoidable, and concerningly recurrent misspelling of her name aside. When Diana’s great aunt, Josephine Barry, contacted her a month ago, she had no idea what kind of emotional distress she would be undertaking. It was an absolutely divine coincidence that her dearest bosom friend’s relative was the head of one of the most respected publishing companies in Canada, and just so happened to have recently relocated her offices to Charlottetown – the very city wherein Diana and Anne had attended college. After years of pestering, and insisting that it “wouldn’t be favouritism, since you already write so well”, Diana had finally broken her, successfully convincing her to send in draft synopsis for her latest story idea, with a first chapter draft also included.

“The Tragical Musings of Princess Cordelia” was a story that Anne had been planning for years. Most of her stories had leaned into the genre of the period novel. That had included stories set in rural PEI on the cusp of the 20th century, feminist re-imaginings of historical narratives, and her latest endeavour, medieval coming of age novels.

Her email from Ms. Barry had sent her into an absolute tizzy, and she was, quite frankly, surprised that she hadn’t outright screamed in the middle of the park when she read the content of the notification on her phone. But of course, it wasn’t that simple. After a few meetings with the woman – who had turned out to be much warmer towards Anne than she had expected of such a notoriously harsh writing critic and businesswoman – they had established that a final draft of the novel would be sent to test audiences within the next 6 months, since Anne had already mapped out so much of the entire text.

But that was the trouble. That was the thing keeping her up all hours of the night that past month – she _didn’t_ have it completely mapped out. Sure, she had planned out her protagonist’s journey towards self-discovery, her entire adventure throughout the land, and all of her various experiences that would make her the person she was meant to be by the end of the novel. But that was the easiest part, in Anne’s opinion. Since she tended to base Cordelia on herself, it made it simple for Anne to imagine the life she would have wanted were she in the position of the young princess.

The trouble was, she had _lied._

During one of the first meetings, one of Josephine’s male counterparts had implied that her romantic subplot had also been established. Panicking, and expecting that this was a must-have for many of the other employees at the meeting, who nodded subtly in thought, urging her to answer, she had blurted out an affirmation, that “Yes! Cordelia’s love interest will also be playing an important role in her coming of age, later on in the story! Of course!” Thankfully, they had accepted her lie that she “hadn’t come up with a suitable name for the character yet”, so didn’t press much more into the details of that love interest. But she knew that it wouldn’t be long until they started asking more specific questions. And either way, now she actually needed to incorporate a romantic sub-plot into her already planned out story.

That wouldn’t have been so bad for Anne if it were any other kind of sub-plot. But a romantic sub-plot? She had never found the right words to describe a “fairytale romance” – or any kind of romance, for that matter. While Anne had found all the love she really desired in life, with her found family in Matthew and Marilla, back at Green Gables, and her dear friends, she had yet to experience a “tragical romance” of her own. She had, personally, never seen the point of it, and had always employed her trusty excuse of being “far too busy for any kind of romance, Marilla”. But right now, she wished that she had just, for _once_ , let herself be distracted at some point throughout all these years. Maybe that way, she could have the slightest bit of personal experience to reflect and write on, instead of being stuck in this endless, suffocating loop of writer’s block.

She realised that she had been zoned out for a few minutes at this point, and her coffee had gone a little cooler in her hands, a change from the borderline scolding temperature she was used to holding. So, she quickly took a large gulp, and opened up her notebook once more, tapping her pen rapidly against the surface of the paper. She wished that she could go on with her last paragraph, since that would be the easiest thing for her to do, but she knew that she couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable. At some point, she would have to actually write in a love interest for her character.

So, instead, she flipped to a new page, folding the corner of her previous page to remind herself of it later. With a blank canvas before her, she went to write, attempting to let the most romantic depths of her soul flow onto the page…

Nothing.

How?! Even though she had ever experienced an actual romance, Anne had always considered herself to be a romantic thinker, if that made any sense at all. She remembered daydreaming in class as a child about a handsome, mysterious stranger, sweeping her off her feet with a myriad of literary quotes and declarations of everlasting love. But as she grew, and saw no potential prospects of this nature, she had soon brushed off the possibility of that kind of future. She guessed that, in that time, she must have completely lost her ‘romantic inclinations’, as Marilla had liked to call them, back in the day.

Even trying to remember the image of that handsome stranger left Anne with nothing. She could never put a particular attribute to him, since it seemed that she could only ever imagine some words here and there. He was always some kind of shadow, or a face you would see in a dream – no discernible features, or anything you could particularly remember about him. He was just there. He had existed at one point, to her imagination at least. But now, he was just gone.

Groaning internally, she started doing the writing exercise she had been taught in her first year at college – she began writing down every single word that came into her head, barely paying attention to the words she was writing, and instead, opening her ears to the sounds she heard around her. Surely, something would inspire her. After all, her observational skills had never let her down before. Why start now?

“Excuse me, miss? Is there a Wifi password I could use, by any chance?”

Her head jerked in the direction of the loudest voice in the room, her mind automatically fixing her focus onto the first detectable object it could latch itself onto. A young man, sitting at his own table near the entrance, laptop open and coffee cup steaming, leaned towards one of the baristas behind him, as she handed him a small piece of paper. Anne thought nothing much of the situation at first, the back of the boys head only giving her insight to a few of his unruly black curls atop his head, but neglecting to give her any glimpse of the boy’s face. He nodded in reply, thanking her and taking the paper, before turning back around to face his laptop, and unintentionally, to face Anne.

Now, Anne would be the first to admit that she knew very little about the objective standards of male beauty, aside from the obvious; “great body”, “nice eyes”, “killer smile”. But, in that moment, Anne had to acknowledge an indisputable fact – this guy, whoever he was, was objectively _gorgeous_. The unruly curls she had noticed before only multiplied from the front of head, one or two of them hanging over the edge of his forehead, brushing the edge of his dark, thick eyebrows, which seemed to be having a conversation of their own as he typed away viciously at his keyboard. His jawline was sharp, his eyes – hazel? It was very difficult to tell from that distance – were a perfect almond shape, and his arms, stretched out over the table to type, were well and truly toned. She could also see a hint of his tanned skin, as the sleeves of his sweater were cuffed slightly below his wrist, offering only a sliver for imaginations sake.

Anne had been staring. She knew she had been staring. But for some reason, it was extremely difficult for her to look away. Thankfully, she wasn’t being too conspicuous in her observation, so he hadn’t looked up from whatever he was working on, leaving her free to continue picking out smaller details. Details like, how he had slowly started chewing on his bottom lip, sucking it under his teeth gently, how his typing was particularly loud, due to his heavy and rapid hand on the keys, and the unconscious tapping of his left foot beneath the table.

_Cordelia couldn’t help but notice the way that he nervously chewed his bottom lip, anticipating something she didn’t think she was quite aware of yet. His steady hand reached out across the table, fingers tentatively grazing the skin of her knuckle, as her folded hands gradually stretched out, flipping over to encase his fingers between her own. They felt rough, but somehow, still so comforting in their reassurance. His large hands, that she had seen so often while hard at work, were now at rest in the peaceful embrace of her palm against his –_

Her hand stopped moving.

Wait.

Anne became vaguely aware of her ceasing pen movements and shot her eyes back down to the page, only to come face to face with _writing_ , with _coherent sentences_. Not only that, but it was quite possibly the most romantic scenario that Anne had concocted for as long as she could remember.

Just above the paragraph, Anne saw the various words scattered across the top few lines of the page.

_Sweater laptop messy curls eyebrows tell a thousand stories chiseled jawline skin was tinted and sunkissed kind eyes nervous habit foot tapping aggressive hands_

Okay. That was a little much. Looking at those words after she had broken out of her trance-like state had well and truly broken the spell. This was _beyond_ weird. She was used to writing about other people and their stories, but she had never written about someone in such physical detail before, and certainly not in such a suggestive or romantic manner.

She shut the book in alarm. This was something to address later. But her coffee had started getting cold, and the clock had somehow passed twenty minutes since she had first sat down. She had planned to meet Diana before they went out for dinner tonight, but if she didn’t get going now, she wouldn’t have time to clean the apartment before Diana dropped by for pre-dinner drinks.

Downing the rest of her coffee in as minimal sips as possible, Anne stuffed her notebook haphazardly into her handbag, sliding herself out from behind the table and making a dash for the door. She pretends to ignore the young man, as he glances up at her passing figure, before she’s out the door and walking back to the apartment. Writing could wait until she was much tipsier.

* * *

Anne flopped down onto her bed, giggles from the night out fading slowly as the quiet of the apartment finally set in. Diana had eagerly brought a bottle of red wine before dinner, as expected, and the girls had enjoyed a few glasses more than was considered proper, before heading out to their favourite Italian place to fill themselves with as many carbs as humanely possible. A few hours later, and Anne was full to the brim and fit to burst, both with joy and with linguini.

As the last of the wine had yet to wear off, Anne thought that perhaps she should write down some more of her introductory scene that she had started earlier that day, while the alcohol was still circulating through her system and fuelling her courage. But as she sat there, motionless aside from her darting eyes and fidgeting hands, she found that couldn’t even remember what she had been writing about.

In fact, she couldn’t remember much from that afternoon. Nothing beyond some blurry images. Black, thick curls, aggressive typing, pinched eyebrows, a knit red sweater. It took her a few moments to register that these were all snapshots of the boy she saw at the café, who was, somehow, still haunting her. It wasn’t like she was actually attracted to him. She had literally never spoken to him before.

It was clearly her drunk brain trying to associate the first guy she could think of to her story. It was just her desperate attempt to claw at any semblance of a love interest she could find. The sooner she found another guy to observe, he would be completely out of her head, and she would never have to think about him again.

But the more she tried to imagine other qualities about a guy, like blonde hair, a tall stature, deep blue eyes, _anything_ , the more she kept falling back into the trap. Now, all she could picture was this complete stranger from the café walking around a bustling marketplace, and politely inquiring about the various goods.

She supposed, if she was really not going to be able to get him out of her head, she may as well make the most of it. Get it out of her system. Yeah.

She rolled over onto her side, to balance precariously on the edge of the bed and reach down to the floor, grabbing her handbag from that afternoon and rustling through it. But it was strangely barren, aside from her wallet, keys and phone. Then she registered a memory of putting it into the side pocket, sighing in relief as she narrowly avoided an absolute disaster.

She slid her hand inside the side compartment and froze. Her fingers grasped at empty spaces, the edge of the bag’s inner fabric brushing her fingertips, taunting her. She sobered up relatively quickly after that.

Bolting upright, Anne began rustling through the bag, this time actually looking inside, in case she was somehow missing something. But, to no avail. Her notebook, the one thing she used to write all of her initial ideas for the story, was nowhere to be found.

Shit.

Oh my god.

Shit!

Anne flew back to the pillows behind her head, groaning and placing her hands over her eyes. There was no way this was happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Of course, this was happening. Something was always bound to go wrong. She knew this was all too good to be true. Now Ms. Barry would find out that she had no new ideas at the next meeting, figure out she was a complete amateur and had no idea what she was doing, and kick her off the project before finding another replacement. She never deserved this opportunity, anyway-

_Ding._

The light of her phone screen lit up inside her bag, drawing her eye back down to the tussled handbag beside her bed. Choosing to quickly read the message, probably from Diana, so that she could get back to her self-pitying and wallowing, she grabbed her phone and turned it on to the lock screen. Immediately, she saw the new notification.

_**(unknown number)** : Anne Shirley Cuthbert? _

Okay, so it definitely wasn’t Diana. The unknown number piqued her curiosity, distracting her for a moment longer, long enough to respond.

_**(sent)** : Yes? Can I help you? _

An immediate response, as the phone continued to sound off multiple times.

_**(unknown number)** : I have your notebook _

_**(unknown number)** : assume you want it back? _

_**(unknown number)** : seems important _

Oh. My. God. Her life was saved. She could have squealed out loud, if she weren’t still filled with questions about this mystery saviour.

_**(sent)** : Oh my god thank you so much, I thought I had lost it! _

_**(unknown number)** : no problem, can I get this back to you somehow _

_**(sent)** : We can meet up tomorrow if you’re free, I just kind of really need that back asap _

_**(unknown number)** : I found it at the café on Peters Avenue could we meet up there? Since we clearly both know it _

_**(sent)** : That sounds perfect, could we meet in the morning maybe? _

_**(unknown number)** : anytime past 10 works for me _

_**(sent)** : Cool I’ll see you then, thanks again :)_

_**(unknown number)** : no problem, see you then. _

_**(unknown number)** : also quick question _

_**(unknown number)** : what’s up w you and messy curls?_


	2. The Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After our introductory chapter, now it's time for the real story to begin. Who's ready to officially meet our Gilly-boy?

Anne didn’t know why sitting in that seat by the door was making her feel so tense, but it only added to her nervousness.

She also didn’t know why she had decided to sit in this seat in the first place – if anything, she had been trying to stop thinking about the guy from yesterday.

No matter how much his presence had somehow managed to fuel her creative process.

She had been there for twenty minutes already, and the clock hadn’t even struck 10 yet. Anne had gotten herself into the habit of being alarmingly early for many of her outings, no matter what the occasion. But even she had to admit that this was a stretch. After all, she didn’t even know who she was meeting, and she doubted that she would be in the coffee shop for much longer than a few minutes by the time she actually met her mystery number.

She could have saved $6.00 if she had just gotten there on time, met them outside the shop and left, instead of sitting down for an additional twenty minutes, forcing her to purchase a coffee to avoid getting kicked out by the grumpy, teenage baristas being forced to work early on a Saturday morning, fresh hangovers looming over their head.

If that wasn’t enough, without her notebook, she had nothing actually productive to do with her hands, and the building stress had led her to start biting her nails off. It hadn’t been that long since she had shaken that habit, but apparently without the control of having her notebook with her, being able to resort to scribbling whatever stray thoughts entered her mind onto the lined paper, she had to inevitably face her inability to stay de-stressed. I really do have to paint my nails again, she thought to herself, while simultaneously nibbling at the corner of her pointer finger’s nail.

“Anne?”

Virtually slamming her hand back to the wooden surface of the table, to avoid the embarrassing situation of someone actually seeing her biting off the entirety of her nail, Anne swung around in alarm, only to come face to face with the one stranger she had really hoped she never had to see again.

But, of course.

‘Aggressive type-r’ stood at the entrance to the shop, hands in his jean pockets, wearing the same sweater from the day before _agonisingly_ well. He had one eyebrow raised, and a brown shoulder bag, that she hadn’t noticed before, slung lazily over his right shoulder. His lopsided smile hinted to her that he was probably amused – either at her hilariously immature nail-biting, or at the fact that she had definitely been staring at him for way too long.

When she finally alerted herself, and opened to her mouth to reply, she caught herself wondering: how did this guy even know her name? She never spoke to him yesterday…did she?

“…Yes?”

He didn’t bother answering her half-question, instead lowering his eyebrows, somehow smiling more than he had been earlier, before inviting himself to sit in the chair opposite her, slipping his shoulder bag onto the floor beside him. Anne could only watch in silent confusion, mixed with a bit of fear, at this, essentially, complete stranger, taking it upon himself to take the seat of her incoming companion.

When he made no attempt to explain himself, she took ownership of the situation. “Who’s asking?” She asked incredulously, her sense of annoyance coming back in full force.

“Gilbert. Blythe.” He grinned, nodding at her inquiry, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil.

“Well, as much as it’s been lovely to make your acquaintance Mr. Blythe, I’m afraid I’m expecting someone any minute now. So, if you would kindly leave my table, that would _also_ be lovely.” She had to admit, she was quite proud of herself for recovering her sharp tongue efficiently enough after feeling tongue tied for the duration of their “conversation”.

The boy, agitating her further, just kept smiling, before reaching into the bag and pulling out a small leather… _notebook_.

Oh god.

“I believe this is yours?”

Oh god.

“…Hello?”

Oh…GOD.

“Are you okay?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

He chuckled, concern leaving his expression when she finally broke from her mortified stupor, burying her face in her hands. “Unfortunately, no. Am I that much of a disappointment? What were you expecting?”

She slumped back onto her chair, revealing her face again, but cringed when she saw the knowing look on his face, clearly enjoying her obvious discomfort. “It’s not that. I just…sorry. Thanks for my notebook, I guess.”

“Hey, it would have been pretty rude of me to ignore the notebook that you dropped right next to my table.” He gently pushed the notebook in her direction across the table, where she grabbed it from him. “You’re an author, right?”

She quirked her eyebrow, internally deciding that hers would never be as expressive as his theatrical ones. “Yeah. How did you figure that one?”

Suddenly, she saw a sliver of his confidence drop, as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and stuttered a little. “Well…I-I mean, I needed to find your info when I saw you drop it, since you left in such a hurry. So, I had…I saw some of your writing. Accidentally. Sorry.”

And the day just got worse.

“How much did you see?” She blurted out embarrassingly loudly, before she could stop herself from seeming desperate.

“Um…”

“Because I can assure you that whatever you saw was from a completely different day, it’s quite old, really, I haven’t written in that thing in weeks, so I couldn’t-“

“I know that you were writing about me.”

And just like that, things were back to the way they were clearly meant to be – with Gilbert having all the confidence in the world, a small smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth, while Anne gawked in response, finding her usually extremely reliable vocabulary running conveniently dry.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, playfully, raising his eyebrows in good humor, as he placed his hand to his heart in mocking, “I’m totally flattered. Can’t say that I’ve ever been someone’s muse before. Honoured, truly.”

“I wasn’t.” Short-circuiting, she somehow didn’t realize that she had hardly registered the last comment, still zeroing in on his accusation. “Writing about you. I definitely wasn’t.”

Her voice crack was apparently unconvincing.

“Really?” He looked up in thought, leaning forward onto his elbows and invading her space a little. “Hmmm, well…I didn’t notice any other aggressive typists in the café yesterday. Also, _messy_? I didn’t think my hair was _that_ bad. And I’ve been told my eyebrows can get a little intense before, but ‘a whole conversation of their own?’ Made me feel a little self-conscious, I’ll have you know.”

She took a deep breath, determined to form a coherent sentence and evade Gilbert’s _irritatingly accurate_ recalling of her descriptions. “It’s a coincidence, I can assure you. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, so it’s _flattering_ in your opinion?” Anne just knew that he was deliberately stirring her up, because he was completely aware of her blatant lying. He was just lapping this up, feeding off of her embarrassment. “I mean, I suppose the vivid descriptions of my jawline and my arms were a _little_ flattering…”

“It wasn’t about you!” She leaned forward, irritation pushing her to a breaking point. She had no time to consider that this action would leave her mere inches away from him, until she’s well and truly within an improper proximity for a public coffee shop. Let alone, with someone she still hardly knows.

When she draws back suddenly, the slow smile that had crept onto his face at her insistent action seems to have all but vanished, leaving that infuriating little smirk, hiding in plain sight. He throws his palms up in surrender, shaking his head. “Fine. If you want to keep lying to me, I’m at least going to get some drinks. You want anything?”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Hey, all in the day’s work for a muse.”

“It’s not about-“

“Okay, okay, message received. I’m getting you some tea. No buts!”

She sighed in resignation as he left to order their drinks.

She told herself not to turn around and watch him at the counter, but at the sound of an elderly woman’s voice in his direction, she felt immediately compelled to turn and see what could be going on. Tuning into the conversation, she caught them in the middle of a pleasant exchange. Gilbert had, apparently, seen that the woman didn’t have enough loose change to pay for her coffee, and had offered to pay for her coffee, leading to the smaller, frail lady grasping his hands and thanking him earnestly. He simply blushed a little, shaking off her thanks and insisting that it was no trouble at all.

Wow.

So where was that guy when Gilbert had sat down at her table?

He was different. Gentlemanly, warm, almost _heroic_.

She vaguely registered the feel of her pen beneath her fingers as she dipped unconsciously into her bag and continued to gaze in his direction, as he politely made their orders with the barista, somehow eliciting a bashful smile from them in reaction, despite their endlessly shitty mood.

She turned back to her notebook as her other hand, all of its own accord, turned the cover over, somehow turning to a blank page on the first attempt.

No. Nope. Not doing this again.

Her pen had other ideas, inching closer and closer to the page with a life of its own.

Well…

Now that Anne thought about it, her writing instinct had yet to steer her off course. And, as much as it pained her to admit, she hadn’t had such a strong sense of inspiration in months, particularly since she had been given a set deadline, something she had yet to tackle in her own writing.

From what she could tell of Gilbert, he wasn’t a bad person. Sure, he clearly took great satisfaction in her misery, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was clearly a good guy, since he went to the effort of meeting her in person to give back her notebook, not to mention his unprovoked charity for the elderly woman at the counter.

The ideas swirled around in her head at a million miles an hour as her mind ticked away with possibilities…she could rename him. He didn’t have to be called Gilbert. That way, there was never any association with a real person to the reader, or to anyone that knew her. The thing was, she didn’t know if she would ever hit this kind of breakthrough again, or if she would even be able to have the same kind of breakthrough with a completely different person. And she was sure, if she did, they wouldn’t be half as understanding as Gilbert had been in reaction to a strange, random girl writing about him from a distance.

Besides, it wasn’t like she was asking him to be her _actual_ love interest.

She immediately set about writing, magic flowing from her pen, as she officially introduced Cordelia to her first love. As the time ticked away, in what seemed like a matter of seconds, Gilbert eventually returned, silently, to the table, aware of her writing frenzy. He waited a few moments as she continued to scribble furiously across the contents of the book, before leaning over slightly, trying to grab her attention.

“Are you okay? You kind of look like you’ve been possessed.”

“Shh!” She insists, not looking up from the book. “I’m having a breakthrough! No interruptions.”

Light chuckles. Then, silence again. Just the occasional sip of a coffee cup and the soft scratching of an overworked pen.

A few minutes later, when Anne was completely satisfied with her sudden writing epiphany, she glanced up at Gilbert from her position, bent over the now completely filled pages, checking to see if he was still watching her as closely as he had been for the past couple of minutes. Thankfully, he seemed to have lost his keen interest, and was leaning back against the back of his seat, seemingly lost in thought as he stared down at his nearly finished coffee. At the sound of her notebook gently shutting, his pupils darted back up in her direction, an easy smirk settling onto his face.

The sudden tension in the air proved to Anne that this was going to be harder to ask than she had anticipated. But she took, what she hoped was, a discrete breath, and finally broke the silence building at the table.

“I want to write about you.”

To her surprise, his reaction wasn’t as taken aback as she had expected it to be. Instead, he simply chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head, before crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow. “You mean _again_ , right?”

She huffed in annoyance at the fact he was clearly missing the point of this conversation. “Fine, yes. I was writing about you before. You happy now?”

He somehow grins even wider. “Very. Continue.”

Sighing, she continued. “So…I have this novel that needs to be finished by November, and I’ve honestly been drawing a blank on the…romantic interest for the story. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered including one, since I find it _completely_ confounding that every female protagonist needs a love interest, but I was told that I required one for this story. I really can’t afford to mess this up, because I’m sure that I won’t ever get an opportunity like this again. I’ve been having the worst writer’s block lately, and the stuff that I wrote about you was the first legitimate piece of writing I’ve done for that storyline in _weeks_.”

She hadn’t realised how much of a tangent she had ended up on as she eventually wrapped up her tirade, but the still-amused expression on Gilbert’s face indicated to her that she had gotten a little excited.

“Well, glad to know I could be of some service.” His eyebrows seemed to be teasing her all of their own volition.

“Yes, well, again, thanks. But I’m going to have to be a horrendous person, after you’ve already brought me back my notebook, and ask you for one more favour.” She winced at how pathetic and desperate she sounded, but he didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, and seemed to be seriously contemplating the suggestion.

“You want to write about me again.”

“Yes. I want to base the entire character on you.”

This seemed to surprise him slightly, his eyes widening in response. “Oh…” He remarked, “…I see.”

The hesitation in his tone caused Anne to backpedal, the fear of judgement and subtle rejection creeping in. “I totally understand if that’s too weird, I would probably be thinking the same thing if some random girl asked me that, but it would completely save my ass and it would only-“

“Let’s do it.”

“-be for a few weeks…pardon?” His interruption was so abrupt, it made her wonder if she had misheard him.

“I accept your proposal, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert.” He smirk returned, the twinkle in his eye betraying his genuine excitement. Anne thought she could have, quite literally, passed out from the feeling of finally exhaling and relaxing her posture. “I’ll be your _muse_.”

Her joy was palpable as she attempted to recover from her embarrassingly enthusiastic response, insisting that “Just to be clear, I’m not calling you that.” She figured that her smile gave her away, though.

Indeed, Gilbert picked up on her joyous expression, and leaned forward in anticipation, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on her. “Well, your _muse_ humbly requests that he continue to refer to himself as such. But, moving on, what do you actually need to know?”

“Just basics should be enough for now, at least. Your family, what your hometown was like, your interests, your career…”

“Why, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert, that’s very forward of you to ask!” His heavily over-done Southern accent elicited a light chuckle from Anne, who tried to stifle it to the best of her ability. “Seriously, though, that’s a lot of information for the next…” he glanced down at his watch, and jolted a little in alarm, “…shit, five minutes.” He turned back to her, an apology already on his lips before he spoke. “Sorry, I just realised I need to pick my niece up, like, right now.”

“Oh…no, that’s totally fine.” She couldn’t quite hide her disappointment at the brief meeting coming to an end already. She supposed that he wouldn’t be able to help her now. She knew that was selfish of her to immediately think of - of course he had family obligations that came first, and she couldn’t ask him to stick round for another twenty minutes just for her to write down every little detail about his life – but she couldn’t help her selfish thoughts. It felt like this was going to be her only chance to finally get some inspiration after the hopeless past attempts.

Gilbert noticed her shift in demeanour almost immediately, and shifted his eyes over her face, studying her for a moment, before speaking up again. “Hey, are you normally free this time on Thursdays?”

Anne recovered quickly from her stupor after that, blinking rapidly to get some sense of what he had just asked her. “Um…yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay then, do you want to meet up here, same time next week? That way, I can think about your questions for a little longer. Is that okay?”

She weighed up the options there. Either she never had to put up with this guy and his relentlessly smug attitude again and evidently let Miss Josephine down, or stay strong for a few more encounters with him before she never had to see him again. Only one of these scenarios ended with her ever finishing this _damn_ story. So, she supposed, there wasn’t really a choice after all.

“…Sure. That works.”

His face lit up for, what seemed like, the millionth time that afternoon. “Great. I do have one more condition, though.”

“What?”

“I get to be the first to read it when it’s done.”

“Don’t you have a niece to pick up, Blythe?”

* * *

_“Now, what purpose could a lady like yourself ‘ave in the marketplace, I wonder?” The man sneered, towering over Cordelia, as though she were no larger than a mouse. She steadily tried to pull the hood of her cloak down over her eyes, as if not seeing the threatening stranger, as he slowly advanced upon her, would somehow make him vanish as an apparition._

_However, she began to realise that the back wall of the alleyway would eventually have her cornered, and the more she backed away, the more he would simply follow after her, until she had nowhere left to go. Not willing to simply give in to her inevitable fate, she determined her best course of action as quickly as she possibly could – after all, this was not how she had planned on ending her first secret venture outside of the palace walls._

_"Speak up, m’lady! Or ‘as the cat gotcha tongue?” His voice grew louder as he became more impatient throughout her lingering silence. When she finally drew the courage to meet his gaze, a wicked glint flickered in eyes, as he leaned down in her direction. “We can do something about that, I reckon…”_

_With one swift motion, Cordelia summoned all of her strength and kneed the man in the groin, causing him to keel over and let out a pained groan. With his attention momentarily diverted, she sidestepped around him, making sure to take large strides to get back out into the street as quickly as possible, without causing any kind of fuss which would get her caught._

_Just as she was about to turn the corner, and hopefully be rid of that awful brute, she heard him call out for her, gruffly hurling insults as his footsteps came rapidly closer. As she turned briefly to see how close he was, she abruptly bumped into another stranger, walking along the edge of the street. The stranger quickly removed their hands from their pockets to steady her as she flailed slightly from their unexpected collision, and she glanced up at the man in front of her. Immediately, his eyebrows sloped in concern, most likely due to – what she was sure was – the panicked expression on her face._

_“You alright, miss?” He asked, gaze flitting over her face for more signs of distress. Before Cordelia could answer, she felt the presence of her chaser behind her, and the man’s eyes lifted to see his figure standing just past her shoulder. Immediately, his eyes seemed to turn to stone, his mouth forming a hidden scowl. “_

_You know this one then, eh’ Blythe?” She felt a firm hand grip tightly to her clothed shoulder, and unconsciously trembled from the contact. The man, about half a head shorter than the alley-way stranger, immediately grabbed a hold of her hand and gently pulled her out of his unnerving grasp and close to his side instead. Instinctively, her other hand grabbed onto to first thing it could; the edge of his vest._

_“I do, actually.” He responded coldly, attempting to put some space between Cordelia and the perturbed man. “She’s my cousin. She’s visiting from the village over. I’ve come to take her back to the farm. So, if you don’t mind…”_

_His voice became eerily low, erring on threatening, but the man seemed oblivious to his distaste, and apparently saw this man as some kind of acquaintance. So, despite his obvious aggravation, he merely grumbled in response, before taking his leave. Cordelia was, quite frankly, astonished at how easily this “Blythe” had rid her of her attacker._

_“Bill is a menace, never mind him ma’am.” He alerted her out of her stupor, as she turned to face him again. She hadn’t properly taken notice of his appearance before. Cordelia had very little experience with men of her age, but she had plenty of references from her imagination, so even she could see how genuinely attractive this stranger was. His disheveled appearance, from his messy curls to his mud stained sleeves, did very little to distract from his kind eyes and…almost concerningly perfect chin._

_“Thank you, u-uh-“_

_“Oh, of course, where are my manners?” He spoke quite well for someone from the farming side of the town, much to Cordelia’s surprise. He brought up the hand that she hadn’t realized was still placed gently within his grasp, holding it in a friendly shake between them, as a small smile played at his lips._

_“My name’s Gilbert, m’lady. Gilbert Blythe.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...
> 
> Thank you so much for the support so far xx


	3. The Nickname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilly-boy makes the mistake of pushing Anne over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most iconic scene in history. I WILL put it in every story. Never gets old. Enjoy :)

“And you’re meeting him _again_? Right _now_? And I’m only _now_ being made aware of this?!”

Diana’s screeching through the phone caused Anne to wince, pulling it away from her ear, before pulling it back to her mouth and whispering into the speaker. “Will you please keep your voice down?! I’m right outside the café, what if he’s already there and he hears you?”

“Good! I hope he hears! This is a very quickly developing relationship here, Anne, and he has to know how your dearest friend is reacting to it!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on. First, it’ll be coffee dates, then picnic lunches, then he will ‘oh so subtly’ invite you out to dinner. And all the while, you’re going to keep telling me that this is just research for your book.” She deadpanned.

“Because that’s what it _is_ , Diana. I barely know him.”

“You better not be lying to me right now, Anne. I would think your busom friend would be the first to know about a secret boyfriend.”

“He’s _not_ my—” Anne squealed in response, getting quickly tired of Diana’s sleuthing, before realising she was being way too loud for someone just outside of a peaceful coffee shop. She brings her voice down again, “He’s not my boyfriend. Look, I have to go, he’s probably been waiting for me for ages, I’ve been stalling for too long already.”

“Alright. I trust you, Anne. Make me proud!”

“Shut up.”

“Love you.”

“Always." She rolled her eyes playfully, even though Diana couldn’t see her, but the smile in her voice seemed to defeat the purpose. As she hung up the phone call, taking a deep breath, she couldn’t stop the patronising, mocking voice in her head.

_Will you calm down? You’ve already met him, he already agreed to do this. You’re just being paranoid and idiotic. What could possibly go wrong?_

“Anne? You okay?”

She jolted at the sound and came to her senses to realise that she has been standing at the entrance for a few moments, not making any move to actually come inside. And, of course, at the very same table as last week, was the boy responsible for her wandering thoughts, genuine concern painting his face just enough to barely hide the hint of amusement.

The past week had proved fruitful for Anne and her writing. Much the same as the first time she had seen Gilbert, she had been struck with enough inspiration to write the first meeting between Cordelia and her love interest. She had decided to leave the mystery lover’s name as Gilbert Blythe for now, at least until she could come up with another suitable name. Even though Gilbert felt like the right name for the character she had begun to create, a part of her also felt extremely weird writing a mild acquaintance’s actual name into her novel for others to read. Who’s to say his family and friends wouldn't read it and figure out that it’s about him? That’s one awkward conversation that she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Or whatever Gilbert was to her.

Before she could get too caught up in her thoughts again, Anne shuffled over to the table, and took her normal seat. She noticed that Gilbert had apparently already ordered his coffee, making her wonder how long she had actually kept him waiting. He greeted her with a grin, as she automatically flipped open her notebook to the next fresh page.

“Afternoon, Gilbert.” She spoke up, trying to establish some semblance of a professional atmosphere.

“Afternoon.” His eyebrows lilted in slight confusion at her blunt greeting, but Anne was entirely preoccupied with finding her pen. As soon as she pulled it out of the pocket of her bag, she turned quickly to her counterpart, nodded for him to begin and took to her position, hunched over her notebook in anticipation of her rapid note-taking.

When she was met by silence, she popped her head back up in question, only to be met by a blank expression, as he looked at her expectantly.

“What is it?” She asked. Had she already forgotten something? Had she already done something wrong in the last minute she had sat down at their table?

“It would probably help me answer the questions if I knew exactly what questions I was actually being asked.” He leaned onto his elbows, grabbing his mug and taking a sip, all the while never dropping eye contact with Anne, purely to see the reaction she had as she embarrassingly realised she hadn’t actually asked him anything.

“Shit, sorry.” She sighed in annoyance at herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose. At her lack of amusement, he stopped grinning and dropped his head a little to meet her gaze properly.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I was just kidding. What do you want to know?” He leaned back and jokingly spread his arms out, leaving him exposed as he rested his head back against the booth seat. “I am at your disposal!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous attempt to cheer her up. So, she supposed it worked. A little. She thought for a second and decided to start with one of her more basic questions. “Well, let’s start with your family, if that’s okay.”

Gilbert was uncharacteristically silent as she waited for his response. Anne tried not to notice the obvious twitch in his smile and the gentle sag in his shoulders as he lowered his arms to rest on the table again. After a few moments, he seems to come out of his thoughts and give something resembling a smile as he answered her.

“I lived with my brother, Sebastian, out in Avonlea, before I moved out here for medical school. He…let’s just say he loves to tease me every chance he gets. But I suppose that’s what big brothers are for.” The scratch of her pen is the only other sound as he slowly speaks. “He got married a few years ago, so Mary started living at the farm the year before I moved out. She’s great. She’s become like a sister for me."

In between his thoughts, she paused only momentarily in her brief note-taking. _He was from Avonlea too?_ But how had she never, at least, ran into him? However, she didn't dare to breach the subject. She was certain that she would not be divulging too much of her own personal information. That was surely a recipe for disaster. 

“And then there’s Dellie…” A genuine joy finally reached his eyes as he stared down at his hands on the table, somewhere far away in a fond memory. “Delphine’s their daughter, so my niece. She’s the best – she’s turning 4 in a couple of weeks! She just started school this year - since she’s _insanely_ smart for her age, Bash decided to enrol her a year early. I swear, she’s already so much like them. She’s smart, funny, and she’s still in that kid stage where they just say everything that pops into their head, so she’s an absolute blast to look after.” He finished with a laugh.

“She sounds wonderful.” Anne said earnestly. She couldn’t help but smile at the conjured image of an adorable, little girl chasing after Gilbert through the coffee shop.

“You’d love her.” He smiled wistfully, meeting Anne’s eyes again.

There was an unspoken thought between the two of them in that moment, but neither would voice it.

Anne pondered her next question thoughtfully. It hadn’t passed her observation that he had pointedly not mentioned anything about his parents, but she wouldn’t push the topic. She knew all too well that sometimes family was a touchy subject, and while she wouldn’t claim to understand his precise situation, she could at least sympathise with the fact that he clearly didn’t want to talk about them. Besides, she could make up something for his parents. She would double check for his approval later, of course.

“Alright, next question; why did you go to medical school?”

He grins wider, a little less fond and more excitable now, and continues. “Well, when I was a kid I…I wanted to be able to help others. I wanted to be able to cure people and help them get better. That’s what drew me to medicine, I suppose – for years after that, I wanted to be a doctor."

“And now?” She prompted, sensing that there was something else he hadn’t quite gotten to yet.

“…Now, I want to be part of something _bigger_ than me. I know that being a local doctor would fuel me for a while, but I don’t just want to hand out a diagnosis. I realised that if I wanted to really help, to make _change_ , I would need to be in the field of medical research. That’s what I’m studying, for now. I want to be able to help people in the long term, not just give them little ways to manage their illnesses. But it takes a lot more time and effort for that career, so at this point, I’m gonna be in this for the long haul.”

They chuckled quietly, and Anne can’t help but feel a little proud, despite only knowing Gilbert for a week. But, from what she could gather, she thought it safe to assume that he would make a wonderful doctor, or medical researcher. A guy like Gilbert could probably do anything he wanted and do it successfully.

“But what about you, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert? Why did you become a writer?” And once again, the teasing lilt to his smile returned. But now, Anne could find the situation a little more humorous. She supposed that was par for the course when you actually got to know someone – you became a lot more comfortable. _Revolutionary thoughts._

“This isn’t about me.” She shook her head.

“Oh, come on. Why can’t I find out a little bit more about the girl who’s writing a story about me? Is that not fair?”

“Fair has nothing to do with it, I’m afraid. I hate to remind you, but this meeting is just for _me_ to learn more about _you_ for _my_ book.” She leaned forward and found herself smirking at him over the table, clearly catching him off-guard. If she didn’t know better, she would think she was flirting. Thankfully, she did know better, and she wasn’t. At all.

“Who says this has to be about the book? Maybe I just want to know more about you.” He seemed to take her not-flirting as possibly-flirting, leaning further towards her until it was almost _definitely_ too close to not be considered flirtatious. To add to all of that, he had the gall to arch his eyebrow as he continued to speak, in a manner which Anne found far too attractive of a movement for just one eyebrow to be capable of. “I’d say it’s rightly unfair that you get to know everything about me, when I know all but nothing about you!”

“Trust me, there’s not much to know.”

“I would beg to differ.”

Anne’s mouth was suddenly feeling a bit dry. But Gilbert seemed unaffected, continuing.

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer, or a stalker?”

She scrunched her nose up, suppressing laughter and rolling her eyes slightly. “I’m not stalking you.”

“That’s exactly what someone who was stalking me would say!" His jokingly accusatory finger-pointing only served to make her laugh harder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Come on, please? What are you afraid of _Carrots_?”

That managed to kill the comfortable atmosphere very quickly.

Anne stopped laughing abruptly, but couldn’t find the urge to sink back into her seat. Instead, the slowly simmering rage within her began to bubble, and suddenly, Gilbert was looking _far_ too smug and sure of himself for her liking. She couldn’t remember what he had said before that was so funny, whatever had made her want to keep doing…whatever it was that they were doing just then.

Gilbert hadn’t seemed to pick up on the fact that she might not have appreciated that awful nickname, but soon began to look gradually more concerned. Still, he made no move to sit back further from her, so was directly within the firing line when Anne finally spoke again.

“Screw you.” She spat, grabbing her bag and striding out of the café, not even daring to look back when she heard his confused and frantic calls. Halfway down the street, she finally heard his voice edging closer through hatred burning and ringing in her ears, and she knew that he was going to keep following her, no matter how fast she continued to power-walk away.

She just needed to be alone, and to not see his face. Preferably for a while, until she can think clearly. Or until he stopped acting like an asshole. Whichever came first.

_And if letting him talk to her for one minute now prevents him from following her around for another hour, then talk to him she shall_.

“Anne!”

“What?!” She finally turned around to face him as she suddenly stopped in the middle of the footpath. What she didn’t account for was how close he would be when she turned around. Turns out, he was just about to sneak up behind her and attempt to catch her attention by grabbing her hand, leading him to end up right behind her. So, to Anne’s eternal misfortune, she was, once again, face to face with Gilbert Blythe, with an almost uncomfortable lack of distance.

As she recovered, she took a steadying breath and stepped away from him, crossing her arms and looking at him in expectance. He seemed to be alerted to the fact that he should have been speaking, as his eyes widened and his mouth opened like a fish, before he held out his other hand between them.

“You forgot this again.”

Her notebook. Of course.

She snatched it from him, mumbling a half-hearted thanks in his general direction, before she began on her way again, at a much slower pace this time.

It took little time for Gilbert to catch onto her actions, and before she knew it, he had rushed the few steps between them until he was walking alongside her.

“You know, you should put a leash on that thing, with how much you seem to lose it.” He attempted to joke, but she could hear that his humorous tone was a little choked.

“Hilarious, really.” She muttered, still not entirely enjoying the presence of her current company.

“Come on, Anne. I’m sorry.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t even know what I did! Can you at least tell me _that_ so I can properly apologise?”

Glancing from the corner of her eye, she could tell that he was honestly trying, but it wasn’t enough for her to just forgive him like that. “If you don’t know what you did, then you’re not really thinking hard enough, Blythe.”

This time, he grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop walking again and turn to face him. She had to admit, he looked like this was truly making him upset too. She felt a little sorry for acting so boldly on her notoriously fiery and unpredictable temper, so she figured she could hear him out properly, instead of just dismissing him again. So, she sighed, releasing the tightness in her spine again and gesturing for him to continue. He swallowed, before speaking in a quieter tone. “I’m serious. I’m really sorry, for whatever I did. That doesn’t matter. If you don’t want me to, I’ll never ask a question about you again.”

She couldn’t help a dry laugh at that, still not quite smiling.

“But, if I’m going to help you with this book, I want us to actually get along – be friends even, as wacky as that sounds.” He bent down to meet her eyes again.

“…Fine.” She eventually relented, a steadiness creeping back into her as she straightened herself and met his gaze.

He tried and failed to hold back a satisfied smile. “So…we’re still on?”

“Yes, we’re still on.” She slipped her hand out of his hold, if a little reluctantly. “But I think that’s enough questions for today. I’m gonna go home and cool off a little. I’ll see you same time next week?”

“Yeah, of course. See you then.” He waved her off. She turned away from him and began to walk home again, this time with a much lighter step, before she turned her head over her shoulder to catch his attention again.

“Oh, and Gilbert?” She was surprised to see that it didn’t seem like he had moved since she had started walking away.

“Yeah?”

“Don't _ever_ call me Carrots again.” 

* * *

_“No offence, Miss, but you seem a little out of place here, if I’m being honest.” Gilbert interrupted her thoughts, causing her to drop her hand from their shake of comradery. “What’s your name?”_

_Now, Cordelia was not idiotic. She knew that she would automatically be sent back to the palace if she were to say the name “Cordelia”. Despite never meeting the citizens, her name was clearly renowned throughout the kingdom; though her actual appearance was a mystery to anyone outside the palace walls. So, even if she were to say her first name alone, the guards would immediately be alerted, and Gilbert would likely be paid a handsome sum for returning her._

_Not that Gilbert didn’t seem like a trustworthy soul – indeed, he felt much like a kindred spirit within the first few minutes of their meeting. Although, Cordelia could argue that any saviour would seem perfect to one being saved._

_“Alice. My name is Alice.” She managed to confidently declare, using the first name that popping into her mind._

_“Well…Alice,” Gilbert seemed to take great pleasure in the uttering of her name, no matter how fake she knew it to be, “If I may be so bold, what business do you have in the markets today? Anything I can help with?”_

_She couldn’t help but admire the sheer kindness that seemed to radiate from him. Never in her life had a soul been so considerate towards her for no perceived personal gain. But kindness seemed like it came so naturally to this man. He looked as if he should be smiling for every second of the day, and she thought it an injustice that the first time she saw him was with a frown on his face. Her most fond memories, she was certain, would be the image of him smiling at her so openly._

_“Oh, no. You’ve already done quite enough. I couldn’t burden you anymore.” Cordelia insisted, politely nodding in goodbye, before turning to head in the opposite direction. She was sincere in her dismissal – he had already assisted her greatly. But, of course, she did have her own ulterior motives for not wanting him to stay with her for much longer, no matter how much a small part of her desired for him to just so. No, if he were stay with her much longer, he was sure to ask more questions that she had no answers for yet. She had to continue her secret journey on her own._

_However, it didn’t seem that her vague answer served to satisfy Gilbert, as he soon caught up with her and continued to walk alongside her. “It’s no trouble. I couldn’t let a young lady walk through here on her own. Especially after she had already had an encounter when I found her.”_

_His insistence began to irritate her – particularly his insinuation that she was incapable of taking care of herself. Through furrowed brows, she glanced at him sideways. “I can assure you, sir, I am more than capable of escorting myself. Now if you don’t mind—”_

_It seemed that he was getting just as agitated, his features losing that effortless kindness and instead leaving him frowning down at her. “Sorry Miss, but I find it hard to believe that you have yourself perfectly handled out here. I already saw what happens when you go around on your own, clearly.”_

_Cordelia could not believe the nerve of this man! No matter what had happened with that brute from earlier, she was merely a second away from saving herself. The situation would have righted itself - with or without his help. In her anger, she spun to face him, halting the pair in their path._

_“I don’t know what you think gives you the right to say such things to me, but I highly suggest you leave me alone.” She spat harshly in his face. Through her fit of rage, the hood of her cloak had slipped off of her head, leaving one of her bright red plaits sitting openly against her shoulder. But she did not care enough to make the effort to put her cloak back on, as she focused all her energy onto accosting the arrogant man beside her._

_He had stopped in his tracks at the sight of her hair in front of him, taking a few moments to flit back to her hardened glare, with a mischievous glint behind his mirrored stance and a smirk slowly emerging. With a carefully calculated movement, unseen by Cordelia in her concentration, he swiftly grabbed a hold of her exposed plait, thumbing and tugging the end of the braid in a teasing manner._

_“Sorry, but I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Carrots.”_

_Gilbert should have considered himself lucky, in her opinion, that Cordelia had no blunt object to hit him with for that dreadful insult._

_Thankfully, the sound of the back of her hand smacking against the side of his cheek, and the image of him almost doubling over in shock, seemed to suffice for her satisfaction._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind comments! Been such a joy to chat with you guys in this difficult time :)
> 
> Note: I know it seems weird that they both grew up in avonlea but somehow never met - believe me, that will be explained in the coming chapters. The main changes to the story have been where people grew up (as you'll come to see)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and have a lovely week! xx


	4. The Clearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert makes it up to Anne. Even though he doesn't really need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favourite chapter that I've written so far, this is where the story really starts to kick in :))))

Anne was alerted from her trance-like state to the gentle buzzing of her phone against her bedside table. Gently pushing her notebook to the other side of the bed, and capping her pen, she bent over to pull the phone off of charge, flopping back onto her pillow to flick through her new notifications. Immediately, her eye was drawn to the first alert on her screen. It was a familiar contact, but definitely not one she expected to get a message from at – she checked the time above the notification to be sure – virtually midnight.

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : you awake? _

A shocking revelation to absolutely nobody, Anne was well and truly still awake. She had spent the last few hours sprawled out in different positions in her room, writing up the first few chapters of her book. Cordelia’s character had really started flowing after their last meeting, due in large part to her emotionally charged reaction to that stupid nickname. So, she had spent the greater part of the last week fleshing out her backstory, her motivations, everything she possibly could to punch the story out within the next month.

She’d be lying to herself if she said that she didn’t know what had prompted her to change Cordelia’s hair colour from black to red – Gilbert’s teasing comment might have been completely humiliating, not to mention infuriating, but it had inspired her to incorporate the event into her story. Hence, Cordelia was now a redhead.

But that afternoon, she had come to a halt once again. She had gotten Cordelia past Gilbert’s character and out of the marketplace and was trying to develop the landscape of the world more. Despite the goal she had set herself to find inspiration for the actual landscape, rather than focusing on characters again, she kept getting pulled back to the stupid love interest – how does he react to Cordelia’s outburst? Does he follow her? Why was he in the marketplace? Did he have the same colour eyes as Gilbert? Needless to say, the last few hours had not been as productive as she had hoped they would be.

So, in a desperate attempt to distract herself from her momentary failure, Anne decided to respond immediately. Besides, it was odd that he was messaging her so late. Maybe he decided he couldn’t do it anymore. Maybe he could somehow sense that she had been distracted by visions of his character all day and had finally gotten too creeped out.

_**(sent)** : Yeah, what’s up? _

_**(sent)** : Something wrong? _

His bubble popped up immediately after she sent her first reply.

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : nothing bad but I just found out I can’t make it on Thursday this week :( _

Well, that ruled out the worst possible scenarios in her head. Although, she couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed. Even though they’d only met a couple of times so far, and despite the arguments they couldn’t seem to avoid every time they spoke, she had still found herself looking forward to the next Thursday ever since she had gotten home from the café last week.

The pause in between messages, where Anne had unconsciously drifted off with her thoughts once more, must have indicated her response to Gilbert. As a result, his next texts arrived rapidly, breaking her from her getting too lost in her head.

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : sorry, my family roped me into this birthday party for dellie and I nearly forgot that it was on Thursday afternoon after school _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : so I’d have to be there beforehand to help set up and everything and I wouldn’t want to let you down and just not show up _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : sorry again _

She silently chuckled to herself at his panicked replies. She felt a little bad, since he clearly felt more guilty than he needed to for missing one meeting – for something that he wasn’t obligated to be doing, mind you. She took pity on him and quickly typed out her response.

_**(sent)** : Oh that’s ok don’t worry! It’s family, I get it they obviously take priority _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : can I make it up to you? _

_**(sent)** : Um that would depend what you had in mind _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : are you free tomorrow? _

This shouldn’t have made Anne as jittery as it did, but she couldn’t help immediately drawing to conclusions. The way he worded the message sounded eerily like he wasn’t just asking to see her for business purposes. She told herself she didn’t know how to feel about that, but she definitely did know – the text made her quietly excited.

To add to her own inner turmoil, she wasn’t sure if she was still mad at him for the incident from last Thursday. In traditional Anne style, she had planned to hold some kind of grudge against him or hold some moral leverage over his head to ensure that he knew never to make a comment like that. But to her surprise, she had all but forgiven him. Mostly, at least. She might forgive, but she would never forget.

Should she decline, just to make sure he knew that she at least wanted to be mad at him right now?

That idea was promptly thrown out the window when she thought about having to wait another week to talk to him again. He was amusing, for sure, no matter how irritating he could be.

_**(sent)** : Yeah I am, but again can I get less riddles here? _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : I was getting there! Give me a chance for some dramatic effect _

Rolling her eyes, momentarily forgetting that he couldn’t actually see her, she paused, allowing him the time he wanted for his ‘dramatic effect’. Honestly.

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : thank you _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : it’s a surprise _

_**(sent)** : You needed dramatic effect for that. Really _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : let me have my fun here, being a muse is tiring _

_**(sent)** : Again still not calling you that _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : pretending you didn’t say that, so is that a yes for tomorrow? _

_**(sent)** : Ok sure, as long as you never make you call you muse ever _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : you know I can’t make those kinds of promises _

_**(Gilbert Blythe)** : send me your address and I’ll pick you up at 3 ;) _

Those last few messages felt like a blur to Anne. It wasn’t until she had already sent her address, and had been sitting, staring at the finished conversation for a few minutes, that she realized what she had just agreed to. She didn’t know where they were going, but she knew that tomorrow was going to be very different from just their regular ‘coffee meetings’. Otherwise, Mr. Dramatic wouldn’t have put so much emphasis on the fact that it was a ‘surprise’.

Bidding him a good night (and pointedly choosing to ignore the ‘x’ he had haphazardly put at the end of his own ‘night’, as if he didn’t know it would cause her to short-circuit), she put her phone back on the nightstand, and decided that her brain had been well and truly exhausted from the days events, and accepted that she wouldn’t be getting any substantial writing in until she got some much-needed sleep. Rolling over to pack up her notebook and pen, and slipping beneath the covers, she flicked off her lamp and forced herself to drift off.

No matter how much her brain continued to race with the possibilities of the next day.

* * *

"Are you really still not going to tell me where you’re taking me?” She groaned as they continued through, what felt like, the fiftyieth intersection since they had begun from Anne’s apartment complex.

“I’m afraid so. I’d hate to spoil the surprise after I drove us out so far.” Gilbert chuckled, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead, even as Anne slumped further down into the passenger’s seat in protest.

“You know, I’m ninety-percent sure this counts as kidnapping – an unknown second location is a worrying sign, Gilbert.” Her head lolled to the side, enough to watch her driver’s figure as he continued down the road. He had yet another different shade of sweater on today – a flattering emerald colour – making her wonder just how many he had in his closet. Surely, there had to be a limit to the number of jumpers one boy could own, no matter how good they looked on him.

He chanced a peek at Anne through a sideways glance, an amused smirk playing at his lips as he sighed dramatically. “I don’t think it counts as kidnapping if you willingly get in the car, Anne. Besides, we’re nearly there, so you won’t have to suffer through a car ride with me for much longer.”

He was obviously joking, but Anne managed to detect a note of guilt in his expression – like he really believed that she didn’t want to be there. Though it was a ridiculous thought to her, she couldn’t blame him for worrying, since she had been so hard to work with in the last few weeks. But she didn’t want him to spend the afternoon fretting about whether or not she was having a good time – somehow, that truthfully felt like a wasted afternoon.

She lightly hit him on the shoulder to get his attention as they pull up to another red light. When he turned his head slightly to face her front-on, she gives him the most assuring smile she can. “Don’t worry. So far, this has been the most pleasant kidnapping I’ve ever had.”

He laughs heartily, leaning back against his headrest, looking at her in almost disbelief, as well something like awe. “I’d say that’s a compliment, but I’m concerned with how many kidnappings you have to compare it to.”

“If I did have any kidnapping experience, I’m sure yours would be at the top of the list.” She giggled, turning back to face the road ahead, tucking her hands into her sleeves. “It would be nicer if I knew where we were going, but I guess beggers can’t be choosers.”

“I’d say that, if I had kidnapped someone before, you would be the bossiest kidnappee I’d ever had.” The cars ahead surged forward as the light turned green, and the streets began to transform before Anne’s eyes, distracting her from Gilbert’s teasing insult.

She couldn’t pull her eyes from her side of the road. Coming out of Charlottetown, the winding streets, filled with small corner stores, restauraunts and apartment buildings, had slowly begun to dissipate. In their place, the landscape was replaced with expanses of trees, meadows and countryside. As she peered out at the rolling fields, her hands sneaking up to the edge of the window, as if in an attempt to get closer.

“I thought you’d like it.”

She spun back around to find Gilbert smiling affectionately, straining to keep his eyes focused on the road and not turn to face her as well. Her smile only widened at the sheer pride and excitement on his face.

“This is Avonlea…I haven’t seen it for so long.” She pressed up against the window once more, taking in the joy of being home again. This was a road between the two towns that she had somehow never taken, leading to a sector of home she didn’t recognise completely, but the quietness, the almost homely stillness, it just screamed Avonlea.

“You know Avonlea?” His pleasantly surprised tone of voice grounded her as she continued to graze over the beautiful landscape outside the car. “You never mentioned that you’ve been here before.”

“I grew up here.” She softly smiled to herself, that beautifully warm nostalgia creeping in. “It’s my home.”

“How is it I never ran into you before, then?”

“I only moved here when I was 12. I got adopted by the Cuthberts, so I lived at Green Gables for 6 years.” She couldn’t stop her lips as the words continued to tumble out, before she could remind herself that this was the first real thing that she had told Gilbert about herself.

Gilbert made a sound of understanding, “Ah, makes sense now. You must have moved here right when I left.” She continued to lean against the car door, turning just enough to watch him as he spoke – enough movement to urge him to continue. “I went and lived overseas for a while. Trinidad was amazing, obviously, but it’s no Avonlea.”

The path began winding smaller and smaller, as he carefully maneuvered the car further into their hometown. She closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling of being so close to the only home she had ever known, taking a calming breath and settling into the back of her set once more.

“Nothing is.”

* * *

“How is it I never knew about this place?” She spoke softly, afraid to disturb the majestic scene surrounding them.

“It’s pretty closed off from the rest of the town. My family are the only people who really come out here.” She distantly heard Gilbert’s voice from a few feet behind her, her excitement to get into the clearing making her race ahead through the bracket of the trees.

Before them stood a glorious clearing, shrouded with the wisest looking trees Anne had ever laid eyes on. The trimmings of their leaves were dipped orange and brown with the beginning of the season and fallen leaves scattered amongst the empty spaces around her. The last rays of sunlight shone through the sparse holes in the treetop canopy, casting an array of hauntingly beautiful patterns on the ground, covered in high strands of grass and smatterings of flowers from the summertime, in all assortments of shapes and colours. Truly, if Anne had known that this place existed while she still lived at Green Gables, she doubted she would have ever left – she would have truly become a forest nymph, and snuck away to the clearing in the dead of night to live between the highest nesting spots of every tree.

“It’s amazing.” She breathed, tilting her head up to the sky, catching a patch of sunlight on her cheek and smiling absentmindedly. She wasn’t sure Gilbert had heard her, until she felt his footsteps come to a stop beside her, and he hummed in agreement.

For a few long, golden moments, they stood silent and still, soaking in the magic that seemed to drift through the atmosphere and drip down from the branches of the trees. She almost forgot that Gilbert was there too, the only reminder being his occasionally louder uptake of breath.

“I used to come here a lot when I was a little kid. I didn’t come as much after I came back. I guess I nearly forgot what this place does to you.” He eventually moved, walking towards the edge of the clearing and crouching to sit down, leaning back against one of the elder trees. She made no move to follow him, not quite ready to leave her spot yet, in and amongst the wildflowers.

Gilbert called out to her again, “I thought you’d like it.” She opened her eyes to glance over at him, looking so petite beneath such a large trunk.

“I love it.” She whisper-shouted, a huge grin overcoming her. She had never felt more comfortable and open than she did with nature, and she couldn’t even remember the last time she had gotten to take a walk in the woods like she did when she was younger. If Avonlea was home, it seemed to her that the woods were her room, where she could lay herself to rest and truly sleep.

“I’m glad.” He adds sincerely. “Think of it as a peace offering, since I figured I needed to do something other than just tell you I was sorry.”

“It’s alright. I forgave you a few days ago, to be honest.” She cheekily scrunches her nose up at him, starting to walk towards him and join him at the base of the tree. He scoffs quietly, pouting without any real hurt behind his expression.

“What a waste of a trip.”

The gentle look he gives her as he speaks, while she slides down the trunk to crouch beside him, wastes the joke. She swallows, looking forward again to avoid eye contact. They’d never been this close – normal for people who have only met three times. She could, thankfully, ignore that fact, considering the situation around them was so beautifully distracting.

“I wouldn’t call it a _complete_ waste.” She tilts her head to the side, as if examining the scenery. “Maybe I could include this in my story. Princess Cordelia is a nature-lover, after all.”

He raises an eyebrow in genuine curiosity. “Is Princess Cordelia you?”

The question should have been easy to answer, but truthfully, Anne supposed that she hadn’t set out to reimagine herself as Cordelia in her book. Still, that hadn’t stopped her from making her so similar to her real-life personality – so much so that it was becoming almost confusing to tell the two of them apart. Red hair and all.

“Haven’t figured that out yet.” She smiled half-heartedly. “We’ll see, I suppose.”

The momentary silence between them was only amplified by the space of the clearing, and Anne was able to think back to their last encounter. Even though she already knew Gilbert was inherently a nice guy, this trip, everything he had done today just to make sure she knew how sorry he was for what he had said, it made her feel even more guilty for denying him what he had asked her for before she stormed from the table in a temper.

“You still want to know something about me?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate, and realises how quickly he answered, back-tracking.“You don’t have to though.”

“It’s okay. You did all of this - you may as well know something.”

She laughed out. “You asked me why I want to become an author, right?” He nods, unwilling to interrupt her when she’s so willing to answer his burning questions. “I guess I always loved telling stories when I was little. It was all I knew, pretty much the only thing I ever did to pass the time. I wanted to be a teacher back then, to teach kids how to read and write mainly, and I still would love to do that, but more than anything, I want to create things that last.

“I know…I know how short life is. Stories live on for so much longer than all of us. If I can help people live on for longer – to have their stories told so that they’re never really gone - that’s all I could ask for.”

She decided not to get into how she knows all of this. Since he grew up here too, she didn’t feel the need to talk about Matthew. He probably knew. And if he did, he thankfully had the decency not to bring it up.

In fact, the silence he offers her after she’s done talking is a welcome comfort. Somehow, the air doesn’t feel stifled with judgement or questions, like she assumed it would. She doesn’t even feel vulnerable – at least, not in a bad way. It’s a relieved kind of vulnerable, like she doesn’t have to be as guarded as she had tried so hard to be with him up until that afternoon. Instead of a scrutinising gaze, where he attempts to puzzle her out in her unravelling, he just softly smiles – no teasing comments necessary.

When she allows herself to rest the back of her head on the bark, she notices how close their heads are against the tree, how close they are sitting. It’s unfamiliar territory, but not entirely daunting. The far off look in his eyes ensures that she knows he feels the same – both content and altogether unused to the comforting companionship they had developed.

“So, how would you put it into your story?”

“The clearing?”

“Yeah. What’s the forests story?” He gradually sat upright again, turning to angle his body towards her, sitting cross-legged and leaning back onto his palms.

She thought for a moment, scanning the air as a stray, golden leaf slowly floated down between them, settling peacefully onto the grass just beside her. She gingerly picked it up, feeling the creases of it between her hands, the rough texture rubbing against her fingers. She touched it, and imagined herself as Gilbert, sitting there, just like she was, but smaller. He was alone, that she knew for sure, but exactly why? That’s a question for later. The echoing emptiness of the clearing became much louder to her as she pictured Gilbert – a young, quiet thing – lying beneath that same tree, staring at the canopy and trying to catch a glimpse of the sky just peaking through.

“I think it’s meant for loneliness.” She finally murmured. “Nobody finds this place if everything’s going well.” Gilbert stares, willing her to continue, to see what else she can dig up – and so she does. “You would come for the wisdom of the trees. You might not actually ask them, but you’re looking for help because you’re innocent and don’t know where else to look. Who better to ask than the wise old trees?”

She soaked in her own words for a few moments, absorbing all of the ideas that started flying around in her head, before she felt the roughness of the leaf being plucked from her fingers. Looking over, Gilbert had delicately pulled the leaf from her grasp, and seemed to be studying it, just as she was earlier – as if he was trying to see what she saw, or to know how she saw it.

When he felt her looking at him, he peered up, never losing his focused expression. He smiled sadly, a look that she hadn’t really seen on him before.

“I think you could be right.”

As they leave, she notices him slip the leaf into his back pocket.

* * *

There’s a distinct disappointment in the air as they pull up to Anne’s apartment, the car ride full of pleasantries and conversation. Anne hesitates to open her car door, and Gilbert hesitates to wish her a good night. Instead, she watches him scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry again about this Thursday. It honestly completely slipped my mind.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Today more than makes up for it.” She joked, trying to put his mind at ease, and eliciting a grin from him in response. “If I had a little brother or sister, I’d do the same. I always wished I did, especially when I was a kid.”

“Believe me, she’s adorable until its bedtime – babysitting is only fun when she doesn’t have to go to sleep.” He jokes in response, before his eyes light up. He looks over at her, but abruptly stops himself as he opens his mouth to say something, turning back to put his hands on the steering wheel.

“What?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing, I was just going to…” He trails off, before putting his hands into his pockets awkwardly, shifting his gaze uneasily as he looks down at his lap, “…just that, maybe, if you wanted, you could come for a while. On Thursday. To Delphine’s party.”

Taken aback, Anne almost doesn’t respond. “Are you sure? Won’t your family mind? They’ve literally never met me, and you’ve only known me for a couple of weeks…”

“No, of course you’re welcome to come! They know a little bit about you already, and it would only be for a little bit, it’s no trouble. We could even do some work for your story while we’re there.” He insisted, getting more confident again. “If you do want to come, that is.”

Anne considered for a second. Was this overstepping some kind of boundary? She could excuse today as something useful for the book, but could she really go to a family birthday party and call it ‘research’? And was is it really so bad that she wanted to go anyway? She noticed the leaf nearly slipping out of his pocket, the stem and base popping out of the corner of his pants. She grinned. Maybe some kind of friendship _was_ in the cards for them.

“Is there a dress code?”

* * *

_Well, Cordelia internally huffed, this was just stupendous. And after the utter display she made, declaring her independence and perfect capability of handling herself, no less._

_It wasn’t her fault, truly. That Blythe boy had simply made her fume with rage, her temper sending her into a spiralling mess that consequently made her lose awareness of her surroundings. After marching blindly out of the marketplace and into the surrounding forests of the village, where she had hoped to finally clear her head, she realised that she had meandered into completely new territory. Much to her disbelief, it hadn’t taken her long to traverse a large distance from the entrance to the forest, and she couldn’t for the life of her remember which direction she had come from, thanks to the disappearance of any distinct pathway._

_If she thought the marketplace was daunting, then the wide expanse of forestry around her -no matter how enticingly beautiful it was – was very worrying._

_After what felt like hours exploring her surroundings, trying to discern the best course of action, Cordelia had struck a brilliant idea. Hoisting her skirt above her knees and balancing herself along the rock beside it, she grabbed a hold of the closest branch to the ground, off the side of a wise, old oak tree, and clambered to stand on it, carefully regaining her balance. Some time later, she had finally reached the highest vantage point possible, balancing on the edge of the only branch left to climb on which could possibly hold her weight – but to her dismay, she found that she still could not see over the edge of the other trees surrounding her enough to see which direction she came from. So now, she sat, defeated, in the crook of the trunk, leaning forward onto a branch and trying desperately to form some sort of plan._

_“Miss?”_

_But, of course, she could not have a moments peace to gather her thoughts before she was interrupted yet again by the pestering Blythe. She followed his voice down to the base of the trunk, where he stood in sheer confusion and awe at the situation that she had gotten herself into. Clearly, he thought she was stuck – another insinuation on his part that she couldn’t handle herself._

_Well, she supposed he must have been right to some extent, considering the situation. But she would not give him the satisfaction of even the slightest notion that he had been correct in his assumptions about her._

_So, she pointedly ignored him, pouting and surveying the rest of the clearing, dramatically “searching” for something._

_“Miss, are you alright?”_

_She huffed. Clearly, he wouldn’t take her indifference as a response. “If you must know, Blythe, I’m perfectly fine. I’m in no need of assistance, as you can see, so if you would kindly move along, I will spare you the embarrassment of watching yourself be proved wrong.”_

_“Proved wrong?”_

_“Yes. I’m certain that you think I’m incapable of getting down. After all, those were your earlier assumptions about me, weren’t they?”_

_"I’m terribly sorry about what I said earlier, Miss.” He called out to her with a pained expression, showing true guilt. “If I had known it would make you so upset with me, I’d never have said it.”_

_She glanced down at him, his hands fidgeting nervously, as he shifted his gaze around her. He was trying to make sure she wouldn’t fall, she realised._

_When she made no move to respond, he audibly sighed and stepped back to get a better view of her. “Alice, you can’t blame me for being worried when someone is sitting so high up in a tree, with apparently no plan to get down!”_

_“I’ll have you know, Gilbert,” she snapped once more, “that I plan on getting down shortly, but I regret to inform you that it won’t be by your hand. I will be getting safely to the ground all of my own independence, thank you very much.”_

_“Can you at least tell me where you’re heading so I know you have somewhere to go before it gets dark?”_

_She goes to respond, but catches herself before she does so, as she realises, regrettably, he is correct in his concern. The sun had gotten much lower in the sky since she first left the castle, and it was only a matter of time before it began to set, leaving her lost in the darkness. Not to mention the frightening prospect of facing the wrath of her mother and father when they came to call on her that night, only to find her missing._

_With much annoyance, she cleared her throat to grab his attention again._

_“Where would you be heading?” She muttered as loudly as possible, making sure he heard her._

_He attempts, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. “I’m heading back to my farm, Miss. It’s not far from here. If you’d like, I could bring you along so we could take one of the horses back to where you need to be. That way, you can get back with plenty of time before it gets dark.”_

_She ponders the idea, and once more comes to the annoying realisation that he was correct. There was little chance of her walking back to the castle with enough time to spare, let alone getting out of these woods while she could still see the ground in front of her. So, while the idea of riding a horse with Gilbert seemed downright degrading, she knew that she had few options left._

_“Stay where you are.” She ordered, swinging her leg over the branch in an unladylike manner, to swing onto the next available leverage point below her._

_“I was planning on that.” He smiled smugly, boldly taking a seat in the middle of the clearing, waiting patiently for her to dismount and continue climbing down._

_Cordelia groaned internally. This truly was just **stupendous**._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note: is the timeline of them living in avonlea at different times and never meeting each other very very unlikely?? Yes, yes it is. But for the sake of the plot, imagine for me!
> 
> Posted slightly earlier than my usual upload schedule because my workplace is back to normal, so I will be posting Fridays from now on :) Hope you enjoyed, see you on the next one xx


	5. The Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne visits the Lacroix household for the first time, and finds herself in the middle of a crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the lengthy chapter :)

The minute Anne finally pulled up outside the address, every worst-case scenario thought that she had been warding off for the last few days rushed into the forefront of her mind. Should she have brought some kind of present? What did kids even ask for these days? Would they even be expecting her? What if Gilbert forgot to tell them she was coming? What if he never even checked with them?

Hence, the walk up the path through the front garden wasn’t particularly enjoyable for her.

Rapping her knuckles on the door, she waited patiently for anyone to answer. After nobody came to the door in the passing minute, she started to wonder if she had gone to the wrong house somehow, but before she could let herself continue on her mental tangent, she began to take notice of the faint noises she could her beyond the threshold of the front door. It was hard to make out, but she could have sworn she heard little girls squealing, and the sound of someone crying, much closer to the door.

Just as she begun leaning forward to press her ear against the door and get a better sound, the wooden surface disappeared and she bolted upright, losing her balance for a second as she came face to face with…

Well, not the brother she was expecting, that’s for sure.

The man – Sebastian, she recalled – who stood in front of her looked absolutely nothing like Gilbert, from his dark skin to his groomed, full beard. Anne was about to insist that she must have gotten the wrong house, when the man broke out into a wide grin – one that could rival the sun for how bright it seemed.

“You must be the famous ‘Anne with an E’, am I right?” His thick accent – one that she couldn’t quite place – took her by surprise for only a moment. But nonetheless, she smiled in response and nodded, still not finding her voice just yet.

“Blythe warned us that we should be expecting you. Call me Bash.” He added cheekily, gesturing for her to come inside. “Speaking of Blythe, he’s outside with the kids if you were wondering.”

As he turned to re-enter the room, leaving the door open for her to let herself in, it became apparent to Anne the absolute chaos she was about to walk into.

The crying sound from earlier was not, in fact, coming from the little girl in question, but from a young woman, of a relatively similar age to herself. She sat on the stairs, just past the small kitchen area closest to the door, in an absolute state: her blonde hair spilled out over her shoulders; her head in her hands; and, to add to the confusion of the situation, a stunning, light-blue gown, with puffed sleeves and a large, tulle skirt, spread out over the bottom of the staircase. She also had a large pair of fairy wings attached to her back, only serving to add to the peculiar nature of the image. Her sobs filled the room, and Anne automatically felt incredibly awkward, as if she were walking into a personal moment.

Thankfully she wasn’t alone with the girl. By her side sat another woman, older, with a mustard-yellow blouse and fitted blue-denim jeans. Judging from the way Gilbert’s brother rubbed her shoulder from his position by the bannister of the staircase, and the way that her own hand folded over his in silent affection, Anne figured that this must have been Mary, Sebastian’s wife.

The distinct sound of laughing children could be heard from the backyard, and as Anne peaked through the windows towards the back of the house, she saw a flock of little girls running around the yard, along with a few adults in the corner of the yard, watching in earnest amusement. Few of the girls were dressed in tutus, waving small, plastic wands in a circle and giggling, as the others danced around them in glee.

Then, chasing after a gaggle of the little girls with a booming, theatrical voice, there was Gilbert. His arms were stretched out in the air as he took large, goofy-looking strides in the direction of their high-pitched laughs. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but the look on his face let her know that he was clearly having a ball, whatever it was he was actually doing. As was seeming to be typical of late, she couldn’t help smiling in his direction, even if he couldn’t see her.

Mary looked up as Anne approached the staircase, her hands anxiously picking at her cuticles as she hid them behind her back. The warm smile she offered her told her that she was also expecting her, but that she was unfortunately…occupied with the current situation.

As Anne silently smiled back, unsure of what to do next – should she introduce herself properly? It felt too uncomfortable in front of this girl that she had never even heard mention of before – the blonde girl lifted her head. Her eyes widened when she realised Anne’s presence in front of her. It took only a few moments of silence between the two girls, while Anne gaped at her like a fish, confused about what she should say to alleviate the tension in the room, before she burst into tears again.

Sick of standing by and not helping, Anne quickly moved over to the other side of the stairs to sit beside her, rubbing her back comfortingly and silently trying to reassure her in whatever way she could.

“This is just so embarrassing…” She whimpered into her hands.

“Don’t be silly,” Mary’s soothing voice interjected, “you have nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart.”

“But I can’t go out to the kids like this!” The girl sobbed, showing Anne the obvious tear-tracts in her heavily made up face – specks of blue glitter sat smudged around her eyelids. “Fairy princesses don’t start _crying_ every five minutes!”

This whole conversation started to make things click for Anne: she was the _party entertainer_. Though, she still had no idea what had the “fairy princess” in such a fit of despair. Bash seemed to clue into her confusion and caught her attention with a polite cough. She looked up towards him as he gestured with his head in the general direction of the kitchen, and delicately removed herself from the stairs to follow him towards the fridge.

He proceeded to grab a carton of orange juice, picking a glass out from the cabinet and pouring out the contents of the carton as he spoke in a hushed tone. “She showed up ten minutes ago – poor thing was already in tears by the time she got to the door. Turns out she got broken up with on the car ride over. Phone call. Perfectly brutal, if you ask me.”

_Oh_. Now Anne understood – she couldn’t say that she had ever had a similar situation happen to her, but still. “And she’s performing for the kids?” She inquired, incredulous towards how this was ever going to work.

He scoffed, capping the carton and offering her the glass, which she gratefully took. “She was. But there’s no way we can send her out there now. Kids aside, I doubt she wants to be around anyone right now.” He sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “I just don’t know what we’re gonna tell Dellie – I assume Gilbert’s told you a bit about her already?”

She nodded. “She sounds wonderful, from what Gilbert’s had to say for her.”

He smiled affectionately out the window, momentarily forgetting the stress of the situation. “Yeah. That’s our little angel. She’s surely gonna be pretty disappointed that the fairy princess couldn’t make it. But I suppose there’s not much to be done, after all. I’m sure she won’t be too upset…”

Something stirred inside Anne. She knew that these people were good – she wouldn’t be surprised if they were kindred spirits, based on how kind they were being towards the girl crying in their hallway. They clearly loved their daughter a great deal. If Anne had received this much love and affection, her childhood would have been much brighter. Not only that, but she couldn’t imagine the disappointment Dellie would feel if she didn’t get to see the ‘fairy princess’ after all.

She had come out here as a guest, but she couldn’t help but feel responsibility for the situation and the rest of the party, since it seemed she was in the perfect position. Dellie and the other kids had never met her before, and she knew that, despite her lack of serious acting experience, she would be able to make up for her professional work with her, often untameable, imagination. Besides, didn’t she used to love her recitals back in elementary school? How was this really any different? She excused herself from the kitchen politely and poked her head around the corner towards Mary and the emotionally distraught princess on the stairs.

“Excuse me…” Anne gently inquired. The girl glanced up at her intrusion. “What size dress do you wear?”

* * *

“Thank you for doing this, Anne. Truly.” Mary sighed, smoothing the puffed sleeves at her shoulders after setting the crown onto her head. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“Absolutely not. You don’t need to repay me for anything.” She insisted. If anything, as frightening as the prospect of being vulnerable in front of a bunch of five-year-old girls was, she couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy. After all, this used to be her childhood fantasy: to prance round in a regal-looking ballgown and live out her live as a woodland fairy.

Though, she could do without the glitter. That was a prospect she hadn’t considered beforehand.

As Mary stepped back, Ruby – as Anne had learnt the princess’ real name was – stepped forward, clearly noticing how uncomfortable she had been with the glitter, and used her nail to scratch some of it off the corners of her eyes, so that it wouldn’t be so irritating. She smiled gratefully for the help, taking a deep breath to calm herself down a little.

“You’ll be amazing.” Ruby sniffed, the last remnants of her tears thankfully starting to dry up. “I seriously owe you for this. Remind me to take you out after this is done – drinks are on me, I promise.”

Anne snorted at the girl’s forwardness. It seemed she was gaining a whole host of new friends today, none of which she had been expecting. “I may have to take you up on that. We’ll see if they like me out there or not.”

“They’ll love you! Don’t worry. It’s all in the smile, voice and the wand-waving, trust me.” She assured her, wide-eyed and giving her makeup a quick once-over, before giving her as big a smile as she could manage. “For someone who got turned into a fairy princess in ten minutes…not bad at all.”

The girls giggled together for another moment, before Mary brought her to the back door, out of view of the windows beside them. “Okay, Bash gave the signal. The girls are ready for…” she drifted off unsure, glancing between Ruby and Anne waiting for any indication of a name.

Before Ruby could respond, Anne interjected. “Princess Cordelia.” She figured that, hopefully, by using her childhood alter ego, a name that she was familiar with, maybe then this would be less daunting.

Mary nodded, rubbing her forearm warmly. “You’re an _angel_ , Princess Cordelia.”

As Anne opened her mouth to respond, she heard Bash’s loud voice calling for the attention of the party. The two women beside her stepped back into the kitchen, out of the doorframe, and Anne listened in, bracing herself and remembering the few lines Ruby had told her she should _definitely_ use.

“Ladies and gentleman, princesses and prince,” giggles from the small crowd, “we have a very special guest for you today, and she told me she’s here to spread a little magic! Do you want to meet her?”

She grinned at the cheers she could hear behind the door, acknowledging one recognisable male voice playing along with the cheers as well. That made her stifle a laugh.

“Come on out then, Princess!” Anne braced herself, and delicately opened the door with as much grace as she possibly could, manoeuvring her wings to fit through the slim doorframe. “I was told it was a certain little princess’ birthday today!” She exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, spreading her arms into a mystical pose, her wand poised in the air and her other hand out to the side. Her smile became very genuine when the group of little girls, all sitting cross-legged on the grass, cheered loudly at her entrance, bouncing up and down excitedly. But one sight in particular made her have to hold back her laughter once more.

Sitting towards the back of the group of girls, cross-legged and awkwardly mis-matched in height with his fellow audience members, was a very confused Gilbert. He was dressed particularly differently from anything she had seen him wearing before, abandoning his usual sweaters for a simple white-shirt and jeans. But the most noticeable difference was the fact that he had a plastic crown crookedly placed on top of his curls, causing some of them to droop down his forehead more than usual. His mouth hung open, his eyebrows pulled upwards in shock and confusion, but it took only a subtle wink for him to quirk his lips in amusement.

But she couldn’t focus on him right now.

Turning her attention back to the real audience after only a few seconds, she walked down the stairs – hoping it looked like she was floating, but she could only push this character so far. Levitation was out of the question, sadly - and came to stand just in front of them.

“Now, where is the wonderful Princess Delphine? I have a very important gift for her!” She pretended to scan the seated girls with her wand, but after only a few seconds, the rest of the group were pointing and squealing, “She’s here! She’s here!” The girl in question raised her hand excitedly, squirming on the spot in anticipation. Anne gestured for her to join her at the front, and she began clambering through the rest of the girls, clumsily making her way towards her.

Anne couldn’t help but admire what a beautiful little girl she was. She certainly took after her mother – her dark skin, curly black hair and her big, kind eyes. However, she decided just as quickly that the cheekiness and giddiness in her smile was completely from Bash’s side. Her plastic tiara sat quite regally on the top of her head, and Anne had to admit, it suited her very well.

As soon as she reached her out the front, Anne crouched down to be at eye level with her, causing Dellie to blush and grin at her. “Where are my manners? My name is Princess Cordelia, and I have come all the way from my fairy kingdom to give you a very important birthday present, Princess Delphine.”

She smiled down at her, not struggling nearly as much as she had expected to with this performance. She pulled her wand towards Dellie and made large swirling motions in the air, before tapping the end of the wand against both of her shoulders, making her shake with giggles. Finally, she waved the wand one final time in front of her face. “Princess, I hereby bless you, using all the magic of my kingdom, with the luckiest spell in the world. As my gift to you on your fifth birthday, you will have the best year ever!” She playfully tapped the tip of the wand on the little girl’s nose, making the both of them laugh, as the little girls cheered once more for the ‘magic spell’.

She slowly rose to address the group again. “Now, I have so much to tell all of you! So many stories from my kingdom, so many fantastical journeys, so many things I have to teach you! But where to start…” She pondered dramatically, before popping up in inspiration. “I know! Would you girls like to know how fairies get our wings?”

The chorus of squeals was answer enough.

* * *

No matter how much fun Anne had been having for the whole hour with the girls, she began to realise how tiring children could be. Not that it was bad, of course, but she marvelled at how they seemed to have bounds of energy still left in their systems, while Anne was internally collapsing. Thankfully, since the birthday song had been sung and the candles had been blown out, the party was starting to draw to a close, with guests slowly dropping off as the sun began to set. But, with a handful of children and parents still present, Anne kept up her persona just as much, bounding about the garden with the girls, telling them stories from her ‘kingdom’ and letting them use her wand. Needless to say, she was a very busy fairy.

As the few girls who had been sat in front of her for some storytelling went back to the table to grab some snacks – before they had to go home – Delphine stayed behind, quirking her head at Anne from her spot, sitting beside her on the grass.

“Is something the matter, Princess?” She asked in her sing-song voice, that was becoming second nature frighteningly quickly.

“Do you have a fairy prince?” She blurted out. Anne’s eyes widened for a moment, before she thought carefully about her response. She leaned down to speak directly to Dellie.

“No, I don’t. But I’ll tell you a secret…” The little girl leaned in, in anticipation, and Anne whispered conspiratorially to her. “You don’t need a prince to be a princess. You can be a princess all on your own.”

Anne almost teared up at the adorable expression on her face, as her eyes widened and her mouth hung open, before she broke out into a big grin. “Yay! Boys are gross!”

Anne simply laughed, before Delphine grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her along the yard towards the adults.

“Can you meet my Uncle Gilby? He’s really nice, he’s not gross like other boys.”

Anne tried not to laugh at her insistence, as she noticed Gilbert talking with two of the parents near the snack table. Delphine had the two of them beelining straight towards them, and it didn’t take him long to notice them coming up to him, excusing himself from the conversation and kneeling down to meet his niece.

“You having fun, Dellie?” He grinned, pinching her cheeks, and subtly glancing up at Anne standing behind her. For a moment, he seemed to stop smiling, but he kept that little glint in his eye all the same. They were shocked out of their gaze when Dellie tugged Anne forward again, almost sending her tumbling into Gilbert.

“Princess Cordelia has red hair! Look, Uncle Gilby!” Anne looked over at a suddenly flushed Gilbert, trying and failing to hide her confusion, before Dellie continued. “You always talk about red hair! You said yesterday that you love red hair!”

If she thought Gilbert was flushed before, he may as well have turned into a beetroot on the spot. Not to say that Anne herself wasn’t equally as embarrassed by the comment, but if anything, she was merely confused as to why Gilbert talked about red hair so much at home. Was that weird?

“ _Dellie_!” He whisper-shouted. Looking back up to Anne and standing up straight, he attempted to stutter out a response. While Anne was confused as to why Dellie had said that, she also couldn’t help but marvel at his speechlessness. It was a nice change, she thought, to see Gilbert Blythe getting embarrassed. But, alas, she figured she should put him out of his misery.

“Well, Sir _Gilby_ ,” she pointedly remarked, “I’m flattered. Red hair is very common in my fairy kingdom.”

The little act that Anne had subliminally proposed seemed to bring Gilbert back to his senses, as well as his typical mischievous nature, as he stopped fidgeting with his hands, and placed one behind his back. With a smirk and then an exaggerated bow, he grabbed Anne’s free hand and knelt before her on the ground.

“I’m sure none of the other fairies are as radiant as you, _Princess Cordelia_.” He dramatically trilled, with just a bit too much sincerity. And with a flourish to end his cheekily worded ‘compliment’, he bent his head down slowly, placing a quick peck onto the top of her knuckles.

Anne felt like a hypocrite now, for making fun of _his_ embarrassed flush. She was sure she had never been hotter in the face in her whole life.

The children who were still around to bear witness surrounded them in a chorus of very loud reactions – some shouted “Oooh!” in excitement, while others jokingly ran away from the scene, with a resounding “Ewww!”.

He winked. She was _damn_ lucky that this was nearly over.

Because…how was she meant to recover from that?

* * *

“You were great out there.” Anne spun around from her place at the kitchen counter, to see Gilbert walk through the back door. She chuckled, still partially occupied trying to rub the glitter off of her eyes with the makeup wipes that Mary had provided for her. Thankfully, she was back and comfortable in her own clothes, so she could move about the house without having to worry about knocking into anything.

“Thanks. Sadly, I don’t think I’m considering a career as a fairy princess any time soon.” She sighed. “I have no idea how people do that for a living.”

“Well, I could tell Dellie loved you. I’m sure she’d love another visit from Princess Cordelia, if you’re ever strapped for cash.” They laughed, Gilbert wandering over to join her at the counter, leaning his elbows onto the opposite side and making himself comfortable. “By the way, sorry that I wasn’t there to let you in when you got here earlier. Bash probably tried to embarrass me while I was gone, right?”

She finished with the makeup wipe and put it into the trash can near her feet, trying to hide an amused grin as she did so. As she came back up to the counter again, she mirrored Gilbert’s position; elbows on top of the counter and relaxed posture. “Oh, absolutely. I think I remember him saying something about me being ‘famous’?”

He released a sound that was somewhere between a nervous chuckle and a clearing of the throat, before quickly following up on her teasing remark. “Ah, don’t worry about him. Bash is…he just loves making fun of me. He probably just got the wrong idea is all.”

Despite her hum of agreement, Anne felt the smallest part of her brain, one that seemed to be only activated around Gilbert, deflate. She couldn’t stop her gaze from falling back down to her hands on the counter, unsure of what to say next, or how to tell that little voice in her head to shut up already.

Thankfully, he seemed to only notice the slightest note of disappointment, and so he leaned backwards to stand more upright. “I’m sure, though, he’ll start referring to you as ‘Princess Anne’ after today, considering how you _majorly_ saved his ass.”

Scoffing, and gaining some semblance of her confidence back, she shot back playfully. “Yeah, I don’t know if the regality really suits me. I’ll leave that to Cordelia.”

“I don’t know, I personally thought the tiara suited you very well.”

As she attempted to formulate a response that wouldn’t make her sound like a stuttering mess, Bash and Mary – her saving graces – came through the back door, with Bash cradling a very tired-looking Dellie by his side. However, she seemed to come to attention when she noticed Anne, sans fairy costume, standing casually in the kitchen with her uncle. As the three of them came to join the both of them, all of the adults in the room seemed to simultaneously realise that they were definitely blowing the little girls mind right now. However, as they all looked around at each other with panicked expressions, nobody could come with anything to say to convince Dellie that this wasn’t the fairy princess she had been so excited to meet.

She beat them to the punch, pointing at Anne excitedly. “Princess Cordelia is still here!” Before Anne could stop gawking at her and come up with a response, she whispered, very loudly despite her sneaky expression, “Don’t worry. I know you’re hiding your wings. I won’t tell anyone you’re a real fairy. I’m really good at keeping secrets.”

For a beat, nobody made a sound, looking around at each other as they held back laughter, before Anne swallowed her giggles, and mentally turned her ‘princess’ voice back on. Leaning towards where Bash and Dellie were stood at the end of the counter, she held one finger up to her lips and grinned.

“I think my secret is safe with you, princess.”

As Delphine smiled back at her, and Mary and Bash exchanged knowing looks, Anne felt the burning of Gilbert’s gaze in the side of her head. With one sideways glance, she couldn’t deny the warmth in his eyes, as he softly smiled and made no move to look away from her. There was something behind them, and no matter how thoroughly she looked, she couldn’t quite grasp it.

They were brought down to earth by the clearing of Bash’s throat. The darting look he was giving the two of them made Anne want to be swallowed up the ground beneath her.

Suffice to say, her princess-ing days were behind her. For now, at least. 

* * *

_“Uncle Gilby!” The bright voice alerted Cordelia to the tiny girl bounding across the field towards them. As she came closer, she became confused; the toddler looked nothing like Gilbert, so it made very little sense that she would be his niece. But, as Gilbert stopped walking beside her, and crouched to the ground with open arms to gather her up in a warm hug as she crashed into him, she supposed it didn’t really matter._

_“Hello, my little princess! Is your mother inside?” He inquired gently with a tone of voice she hadn’t heard him take as of yet. As the little girl pulled back from the embrace and nodded in response, she became alerted to the presence of Cordelia beside her, shrinking into Gilbert’s arms, nervously. He quickly noticed and turned to face her. “Dellie, this is Alice. It’s okay, she’s a friend. She needs help.”_

_This alarmed Dellie, as she looked at Gilbert with a frightened look on her face. “Is she in trouble?”_

_He shook his head, patting down her hair at the crown of her head. “No, no. She is not in any trouble. She just needs some directions.”_

_Cordelia watched on in awe. Gilbert’s eyes had taken on a whole new light as he looked down at his niece, crinkling in the corners and making him look as innocent as she had ever seen a man look. He truly did seem to have a way with her, and he clearly loved the little girl dearly. The fact that the young Dellie seemed to make him melt into a puddle made her feel as though she may do the same._

_When the infant in Gilbert’s arms turned to look up at her once again, Cordelia took it upon herself to introduce herself properly. Crouching down beside the two of them, she brought herself to eye level with the inquisitive child. “It’s very nice to meet you, Dellie.”_

_She didn’t seem to take much notice of her words, grinning and looking above her eyes. “You have pretty red hair.” She blurted out._

_Letting out a surprised laugh, Cordelia blushed a little at the sudden compliment. “Thank you. That is very sweet of you to say.” Not willing to miss an opportunity to re-inform Gilbert of his trespass, she cast a judgmental look in his direction. “If only your uncle had been so gracious when he met me, we may not be in this mess.”_

_Gilbert had the decency to look embarrassed, remarkably, but still managed to laugh half-heartedly along with Dellie at Cordelia’s teasing remark. “Sorry, Dellie. We have to go borrow a horse to take Alice back home now. But I’ll be back before it gets dark, I promise.”_

_With a quick kiss to the forehead from Gilbert and a wave to Cordelia, she went running back towards the small farmhouse, happily stomping through the door._

_“She seems delightful.” The words left Cordelia’s lips of their own volition, and she heard Gilbert hum in agreement as they stood up together._

_“Alright. Let us get you home.”_

* * *

_The gentle rocking of the horse’s body as he trotted along the path had been making Cordelia far too unbalanced. That was what she decided to tell herself to alleviate the alarming fact that she now gripped Gilbert’s knee from her position where she sat side-saddle._

_The startled look on his face when she had involuntarily latched on for grip almost made her let go out of shame – after all, the impropriety of the situation was not lost on her – but as he saw her expression change and felt her hand loosen, he nodded in reassurance. Despite the shame she still felt as they continued riding in their new position, she also felt a comfort she had not been expecting. A sense that she knew she wouldn’t fall, that nothing else would go wrong today, that she would make it back to the palace in time to avoid too much suspicion. It was a calming sensation, and she had allowed it to wash over her as they eventually neared the marketplace._

_Most of the ride had been silent, aside from the obvious questions that Gilbert had about whereabouts she lived, but she had miraculously avoided being caught by insisting that he simply bring her back to the marketplace, where she would be close enough to her “lodgings” to walk back herself. Though he had protested briefly, insisting that it was no trouble for him to take her straight home, she gave him a glare that dared him to argue with her again, and he decided against continuing down that path, just accepting that the marketplace would be their final destination._

_This silence, along with the calm that has washed over her as the ride continued, had given Cordelia an opportunity to ponder the circumstances. Seeing how wonderful Gilbert had been with Dellie – Delphine, as he had later informed her – had made her feel a little guilty for how she had behaved towards him. Of course, he had deserved her harsh treatment initially after the incident, but since then, he had been nothing but a gentleman towards her, only trying to get her home safely._

_Perhaps the least she could do would be to thank him. She admitted to herself that some of her reasoning for wanting Gilbert’s kindness – possibly even his friendship, if she could manage it – was for selfish reasons. She knew that she would try to sneak out to the village again, so it could do no harm for her to have a friendly face to turn to. After all, was it not her main reason for leaving the palace – that she wanted to meet people, and to make friends for the first time?_

_She doubted, however, that Gilbert would still want her friendship; not after the way she had acted. And there was little time to start a friendship now, not with her mere minutes from being dropped off, before she would watch him ride back through the forest._

_The horse gently pulled to a stop._

_“Well…I believe this is where I bid you goodbye, Alice.” Gilbert murmured, his face close enough to her ear that he could have whispered, and she would have heard him clear as day._

_“I believe so.” She replied, turning her side profile to watch him out of the corner of her eye, scared that if she were to face him, she would hesitate to leave. Instead, she watched as he gently hopped off the horse, pulling it along to the side of the path and tying the reigns to a nearby post. He turned back to her, holding her gaze as he reached upward, offering his arms to stable her as she hopped to the ground to join him._

_When she realised how reluctant she was to let go, she knew that she had to say something._

_“I’m sorry.” She blurted out into the evening air. She paused, before continuing through his lack of a response. “I shouldn’t have been so cruel to you after you were kind enough to help me. So…thank you for your help. I appreciate it greatly.”_

_He stood stock-still, still gripping her elbows lightly, with a look of awe on his face. He must have come to his senses, as he shook his head slightly, blinking away his expression and sliding his hands back down her arms to let them hang by her sides. As he recovered, a small smile played on his lips._

_“You don’t have anything to apologise for anything, Alice. I should have been more respectful when we met. I should never have called you…that name.” They grinned knowingly at each other and he conveniently chose not to mention the dreadful nickname that had started the days mess._

_Cordelia swallowed down the grin and brought about as much courage as she could find, forcing herself to take the risk. “Can I see you again?”_

_Once again, her companion was caught off guard by her boldness. But he closed his hanging mouth after only a few seconds this time. “I would love that. When could we meet?”_

_There was the catch. Cordelia nervously laughed and shook her head, hoping to hide her lies with a bit of movement. “I don’t know, unfortunately. You see I-I have…my mother and father are very over-protective, and they want me to stay inside most days. But…if I were to come and visit your farm one day, would that be alright?”_

_“That would be great.” He laughed, clearly finding it hard to believe that she suddenly wanted to spend time with him after the ordeal she had put him through. But still, he seemed undeterred from his joy at their blossoming acquaintanceship._

_She sighed in relief, before she realised how long they had been stood out in the marketplace. If she failed to make it back to the palace soon, she was sure to be discovered, and who knew what kind cruel punishments she would be subjected to for breaking the most important rule she had ever been taught._

_Taking a sharp intake of breath to steady herself, she quickly leaned across Gilbert’s form and placed a kiss to his cheek; so quick and so delicate, that it would feel almost non-existent._

_“Goodbye, Gilbert.” She rushed the words, and wasted no time in waiting for Gilbert’s reaction, before spinning and making a dash back towards the castle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> university is kicking my butt but I have the next two chapters done, so uploads should still be regular. hope you enjoyed + see you next week xxx


	6. The Strictly Professional Favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Research takes place, and the line between professional and personal starts to blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for 1000 hits oh my god?!! I can't thank you enough for all the support I got for the last chapter in particular, and I hope this lives up to your expectations. Brace yourselves ;)

As far as breakthroughs go, Anne could safely say that she had been on an absolute roll ever since her last few meetings with Gilbert.

She couldn’t put her finger on what it was about their interactions that had triggered all of this inspiration, but by all means, she was not going to start questioning it.

Over the last few weeks, ever since Delphine’s birthday party, Anne had been powering through the chapters of the novel, with the relationship between Gilbert and Cordelia seeming to just flow from the pen, as if she weren’t even thinking about what she was writing. It all felt natural – as if she were recalling a tale from her own life, in some way.

While Cordelia began exploring the rest of the kingdom outside of the confines of the palace walls, she had not only befriended her soon-to-be love interest, but she had also begun experiencing, through their friendship, everything that Anne had intended for her to do; she learnt to catch fireflies, to care after the farm animals, to barter in the markets. She had even started teaching Dellie how to dance, just like she had been taught as a child. Though, when Gilbert had asked, she had neglected to tell him how exactly she knew so much about refined dance styles.

Anne smiled to herself at the thought. This was perfect. They felt _real_. It didn’t feel like they were just characters to her anymore.

While all of this was happening, of course, Anne had managed to develop Cordelia and Gilbert’s budding relationship. Now that they had an easy friendship between them – which she knew she ought to chock up to her strengthening friendship with the real Gilbert – the dynamic between them had slowly started to shift towards the end goal. Gilbert’s lingering stares had become regular occurrences, and Cordelia had begun to pick up on them.

All the while, the princess had started to notice the smaller details; like how he had light dustings of freckles beneath his eyes that weren’t completely visible to someone who wasn’t looking closely; or how his hair was sometimes slightly damp, either from the rain, or from the dew in the air, or from bathing; or how he always found a way to her smile, no matter how she might be feeling that –

But she was getting off topic.

After all of these weeks, filled with meetings and coffee, she had spun out all of her yarn. Now she, once again, found herself sat cross-legged on the bed, with her notebook open in front of her to the next blank page. And she was at a loss.

She knew deep down that she had already written more than enough of the friendship between the love interests, and she had exhausted every possible development that they would need in order for their romance to make sense. It was time for the actual romance to begin.

Don’t get her wrong, she had found herself becoming quite the expert at the period typical ‘yearning stage’, and she couldn’t count the number of paragraphs she had written in the last few chapters that were composed completely of prolonged, vaguely sensual eye contact. She just didn’t know how much more of that she could write before she officially ran out of romantic material.

From where they were, there was only one way she could see their secret romance beginning – with a kiss.

And therein lies the root of her problem.

Thinking about her predicament was embarrassing enough as it was.

As anybody with any concept of Anne’s life would be unsurprised by, she was one of the few people she had ever met who still had yet to experience their first kiss.

Now, there was the obvious argument that she didn’t need to have actually kissed someone before to be able to describe it in writing. After all, she didn’t know what it really felt like to be a princess, trapped in a castle, and yet she could still write about that with ease. But somehow, something inside of her fundamentally prevented her from producing anything of value as she attempted to describe the act itself. Every attempt she had made thus far had ended with a clunky, unnatural mess – one that she could hardly stomach, let alone _enjoy_.

Never one to give up, Anne had sat there, staring at her notebook, for the last hour, trying to formulate a plan of action. Regrettably, only one potentially successful solution had come to her mind, and she hated to imagine why the thought had even begun to cross her mind.

As if on schedule, her phone dinged from her side. Lighting up the screen sat one of Gilbert’s weekly Wednesday ‘check-ins’.

_**(Uncle Gilby):** you still cool for usual time tomorrow? _

Accepting her fate begrudgingly, she hung her head in her hands for a moment, stewing in the absolute disaster she knew she was about to walk into. Eventually, she pulled herself together, throwing her head back up and grabbing her phone, rapidly typing out a few messages, making sure to keep it vague. This was not a conversation to be had over text.

_**(sent)** : Yeah no problem :) _

_**(sent)** : Forewarning you, I will have a favour to ask you _

_**(sent)** : Now is your chance to say you aren’t free after all to get out of it _

_**(Uncle Gilby)** : not a chance _

_**(Uncle Gilby)** : only slightly concerned, but I’ll see you tomorrow :) _

_**(Uncle Gilby)** : ALSO it’s meant to be really sunny tomorrow. Let’s meet somewhere outside for a change, soak up those rays while we can _

_**(sent)** : Any spot you had in mind? _

_**(Uncle Gilby)** : The park around the corner from the café? Pleeeease Anne? _

_**(sent)** : Alright, since you insist. See you there : ) _

She flopped back, grabbing the pillow and thrusting it over onto her face, hoping that she’d be lucky enough to suffocate herself. Death by asphyxiation was a good enough excuse to hold off their meeting, right?

Anne groaned into the pillow. She knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink. Just what she needed. 

* * *

“You guys are really still messaging?” He chuckled, pulling his usual brown bag off of his shoulder as they situated themselves underneath the first tree they could find. She didn’t think it quite measured up to the oak tree from Gilbert’s clearing, but it would have to do for today. No matter how beautiful the day was, she had no plans of sitting out in the sun for an hour and getting burnt to a crisp.

“She’s really sweet! She says she wants to take Diana and I out for drinks to meet her other friends soon.” She exclaimed, settling down as close to the base of the trunk as she could.

She and Ruby had been keeping in contact since the unfortunate circumstances of their first meeting, and she had proved to be, as Anne had suspected, a true contender for a kindred spirit. She had even met up with her during her free time that previous weekend, and the girls had a wonderful time out for lunch. After she introduced the girl to Diana, she had gotten along just as swimmingly with her, leading her to invite the both of them to meet her childhood friends in the coming weeks. As much as Anne was nervous, she had much more pressing issues to worry about for the time being.

All of which concerned the boy who now sat across from her, leaning back on his palms and watching her expectantly.

It was then that she realised she had been sat in silence for a while, as was becoming a regular occurrence lately. “What?” She inquired.

“You mentioned something about a favour?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Shit. He remembered.

“Um…yes.” She muttered, looking back to her bag, pulling out her notebook and pen and placing them into her lap – very clearly stalling, Anne.

“So…are you going to ask me or…?” He leaned his head forward, smirking with the knowledge that he had some upper hand here.

_Just ask. It’s not a big deal._

_But it definitely is._

“Anne?”

“Can you teach me how to kiss?”

As soon as the words rapidly left her mouth, she clamped her hand over it in surprise. As for Gilbert, she didn’t think she had ever seen him look so shocked. His mouth opened and closed multiple times, his eyes both wide but also…intense. She imperceptibly shivered in response, as she felt the sensation of his stare run through her body, outside of her control.

“…what did you say?” He murmured, so softly she wasn’t sure he had even made a sound.

“Sorry, no, that’s-that’s not what I – that’s not what I meant! I don’t want you to-to just…” She groaned, leaning back to hit her head against the trunk behind her. “It’s for the book…”

He didn’t reply. She couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eyes and face the humiliation of her ridiculous and insensitive request. So instead, they sat in awkward silence, the tension suffocating her while she waited for some kind of response.

A cough brought her to attention. “…Why do you…why would you ask me…for the book?”

Rubbing her hands over her eyes and refusing to move her eyes back to him, she muttered back. “You have to promise me you won’t laugh.”

He sighed, and after the sound of shuffling on the grass, she felt him grasp both of her wrists – somehow firmly and gently at the same time – and pull them away from her face. Without her protective layer, she propped her head back to its normal position, to find Gilbert closer to her and looking at her with sincere affection. Those shivers again.

“I wouldn’t do that Anne. If it’s really that important to you, I promise you I won’t laugh.”

She believed him.

“…I need to write the first kiss scene.” She meandered her way to the point, putting it off for as long as she possibly could. “Everything has been great up until trying to write this scene. I can’t write…I don’t have the…experience, to write about it properly.”

A knowing look spread over his face, before it’s replaced with something akin to disbelief. “ _You’ve_ never been kissed?”

“You don’t need to rub it in!” She whined.

“So, let me get this right.” He interjects, holding a hand up to halt her whining. “You can’t write about the first kiss scene because you’ve never been kissed, and so…you need me to…teach you how to kiss.”

“I know it’s dumb, but I just really need to know, and I’m sure you’ve probably kissed heaps of people before so you were the first person I could think of – obviously aside from the fact that I’m writing about you, but that’s besides the point. Just – if you could describe it for me so I can write it down, I would be eternally grateful. Seriously, Gilbert, I’d owe you for the rest of your life, if you-“

“Anne, just a second.” He interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose and holding his eyes shut tightly. She started to panic – he was obviously annoyed at her for making such a stupid suggestion. Why did she ever think this was a good idea?

He sighed again, pulling his hand away and moving to sit beside her. “I really don’t think I can describe it for you, Anne. It’s not something you can just hear about, and then you understand. I don’t know, it’s different for everyone, so you need to find out for yourself.”

“But how am I meant to do that?” She threw her hands up dramatically. “I can’t just go out and find a random stranger to plant one on, and say “It’s alright, I just need it for research!”

Where she thought he would laugh at her theatrics, he just sat, quietly surveying her. He finally opened his mouth but froze, apparently reconsidering. When Anne raised her eyebrows, subconsciously imploring him to throw her a bone, he squeezed his eyes shut and slowly prodded her.

“I can’t describe it but…If it’s really important to you – for the…story – then…I could show you.”

It took a second for the meaning behind his words to dawn on her.

_Oh._

The thought made her palms immediately start clamming up, and she unconsciously wiped them on the sides of her dress.

“Y-you don’t have to do that.” She stammered, trying to look anywhere but directly at him.

She heard him gulp before he spoke. “No, it’s alright. I want to help. Besides, like you said; it’s just for research, right?”

Rationalising it like that managed to put her mind at ease slightly, giving her the stability to face him head on. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right. It’s completely professional. For professional purposes. Of course.”

“Yes. Totally.” He nodded stiffly, before shifting slightly closer to her and turning to angle his body towards her, encouraging her to do the same.

 _Well_.

What else was there to say? It felt far too weird to just go in for it. Part of her had hoped that Gilbert would dive in first, to save her the embarrassment of having to do it herself, and to get this whole awkward ordeal done with as quickly as possible. But, instead, he sat in a similar fashion to her, curling and uncurling his fingers in fists as they sat resting on his knees, swallowing and struggling to stop blinking.

Anne had to admit that the silence gave her some time to observe Gilbert a little more, something she had begun to find herself doing more and more as of late. She would never admit that the thought of what Gilbert Blythe’s lips might feel like had crossed her mind for a fraction of a second – it was one of the first things she thought about when she saw him for the first time, well before they had developed any sort of friendship. So, the prospect of getting an answer to that question was at once satisfying, to that little part of her brain at least, and terrifying to every other logical part of her brain.

Choosing to ignore those parts for now – for heaven’s sake, it’s not like this meant anything. Best to just get it over with so that she could go back to normal with her writing. – Anne lifted her hands to initiate the first move. It was only as she did so that she realised, with a start, that she had absolutely no clue what to do with them.

“Um…” She shuffled her arms around a little, before looking to her assistant with palpable anxiety. “…what should I do with…What do I do with my hands?”

This managed to crack a smile on Gilbert’s part, as he gathered himself together and brought his own hands towards her outstretched ones, grasping them and pulling them back towards him. As she shuffled closer to keep up with the disappearing distance between them, he placed her hands down onto the surface of his shoulders, lingering for a moment before letting go and settling his hands uncomfortably in his lap.

“That should do for now.” He spoke quietly.

“Okay.” She tried to swallow down her trepidation, but still found herself incapable of closing the gap and just getting the damned thing over with.

Sensing her pause, Gilbert murmured into the space between them. “Do you know who leans in first?”

“Huh?” She questioned.

“In the book. Who kisses who first?”

Ah. She supposed she hadn’t really thought about those kinds of smaller details with the scene up until that point. Pondering for a second – and trying not to get distracted when Gilbert’s tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip – she came to the unfortunate conclusion.

“Cordelia. She would kiss him first.”

He nodded cautiously. With all the strength she could muster, Anne slowly began to lean in, measuring out in her mind how far she could stretch this out before they inevitably met in the middle. Before she knew it, they were mere inches apart, her grip still steady on his shoulders, and his breath fanning out to graze her lips. If she were to move the slightest inch, they would be pressed together completely, and they would finally be able to move on. But as she stared down at his parted lips, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

It was the assuring nod he gave, almost bumping their foreheads together, that made her close the distance at last, tightly shutting her eyes and pressing her lips against his.

Surprisingly, the nerves went away as soon as she felt the pressure of his mouth on hers.

They were replaced with the sensation of…she couldn’t even describe it.

It wasn’t like what her novels had described kissing as. There weren’t fireworks, or sparks of electricity coursing through her veins. Instead, she found her breath caught in her throat for the first few seconds, her body somehow taken unawares by this new feeling, before she found her self-control again and eased herself into the kiss.

No, instead of those electric currents and big explosions of passion, all Anne felt was a strange warmth, flowing from her lips down to the base of her spine, coursing through to the tips of her fingers that had begun to curl into the fabric of Gilbert’s shirt.

They didn’t move. It wasn’t a heated exchange or a heated make-out. Instead, it felt like a peck to the lips that lingered on and on. Part of her thought the both of them were too scared to make any kind of movement, either spooking the other person away or breaking the calming magic that had settled over them.

It was a comforting feeling, sensing how their lips rested together so perfectly, and knowing that no matter how inexperienced she was, Gilbert was there. He was holding her upright.

She felt one of Gilbert’s arms slowly rise up to cover one of her hands again, and the slightest contact of his fingers grazing lightly onto the skin of her wrist jolted her back to her senses. They had been kissing for way too long.

Pulling back abruptly – still gently enough to not spook him – Anne slid her arms back down to her sides but made no move to separate herself from their little bubble just yet. With her eyes wide open again, she was witness to Gilbert’s delayed reaction to a lack of her lips against his. He seemed to lean forward slightly, chasing the surface of her mouth, before slowly waking himself up and blinking to consciousness. His eyes seemed hazy for a moment, but he came to attention at the sight of Anne’s widened stare, mirroring her.

Somehow, he looked different. She couldn’t put a figure on it, but something about him had shifted.

“Thanks.” She abruptly spoke, at a volume which definitively broke whatever spell they had been under, startling the both of them enough to make them jump a little.

Gilbert coughed roughly, leaning back and rolling the sleeves of his flannel up his forearms. “N-no problem.”

Not wanting to have to dwell in whatever had transpired between the two of them in the last few minutes, Anne scooted backwards, closer to the tree once more, and grabbed her pen and notebook from their abandoned spot on the grass. Flipping to the next fresh line space, she went to begin writing. But she couldn’t bring herself to bring pen to paper.

She knew what she wanted to say now. She just couldn’t find the atmosphere to really focus. She also knew that it probably had something to do with the fact that the deafening lack of conversation between the two of them had left the kiss hanging in the air – an unspoken trespass, and yet something they should definitely talk about.

What they would say about it, she didn’t know.

Luckily, as was a convenient trait of Gilbert, he swooped in at the recognition of her internal struggle, and stretched his legs out in front of him, to lay at Anne’s feet. Balancing on his palms again, gaining a semblance of his usual confidence, he grinned at her and spoke in a joking tone.

“Well…Princess Cordelia is a hell of a kisser.”

It took mere seconds for Anne to let out a short burst of laughter, half-fuelled by genuine amusement and half by sheer relief at the reassurance that their usual dynamic had managed to survive. “I’ll be sure to let her know you think so highly of her technique.”

At his guffaw, she found the relaxation to stretch her own legs out in front of her, laying them casually atop Gilbert’s knees, feet stuck out playfully at an airborne angle.

“I guess I can only hope ‘story Gilbert’ measures up – she’s set the bar pretty high.”

As they bantered back and forth, miraculously finding their groove again despite the newly found density of the air hanging around them, Anne began jotting down the notes she had been intending to.

And if a few notes about Gilbert’s lips in particular managed to sneak their way in, she let it slide. 

* * *

_Cordelia knew that her experience in the world was limited._

_She had heard wondrous tales from far off lands across the seas, filled with monsters, grand kingdoms and more scope for adventure and imagination than she could ever hope to dream of, let alone experience for herself. She knew that the world likely held a great manner of wonderful sights yet for her to see, and that, truthfully, she saw very little of it from her humble birthplace._

_But she couldn’t fight the growing feeling within her, that **this** was all she could ever want for. _

_In her years spent pining away in the northern tower, the possibility of even a moment outside the confines of the castle had seemed like the most distant and impossible dream. But still, it had been enough to fuel her mind and heart for so long. Finally, being willing and able to step outside and into the village, she felt so free – that she could run wherever she wanted, speak whatever thought came to her mind._

_Yet still, she had worried. She worried that her freedom could only go so far, and eventually, she would be faced with a harsher reality. What if the world held more evil than good?_

_She also knew she didn’t want to be stuck in her village. This was her first step, but one day, she would find a way to escape this place entirely. Run, ride, swim – whatever it took, she would do it. When she built up the courage._

_But things had changed._

_Lying with her back pressed to the cool grass, face turned to the rustling wind, and her hair freely spread out around her face in a halo, Cordelia felt more at peace than she had ever felt. Part of her would be forever content to stay exactly where she was. With the companion laying silently beside her._

_She gradually shifted her head to lay on its side, gazing over in his direction. To her surprise, he was already looking over at her._

_She smiled wistfully. Her time with Gilbert this last week had proved to her that no matter how much evil there was in the world, she needn’t be frightened by it. With goodness inside of people like him, surely the world would always be in balance._

_He knew so little about her real life. Without knowing anymore about her than the strictness of her upbringing and her longing to be the ‘bride of adventure’, he had taken her in, offering his hand to walk alongside her on the path, occasionally helping her over the few obstacles he could comprehend in her struggle. With a kindness she had never known, he had invited her into his life, and laid himself out beside her. She knew she would never be able to express the full extent of her gratitude to him in her lifetime – but she would certainly try._

_This easy and comforting friendship – the first for her – had slowly eased into something different. Unspoken feelings, but Cordelia could ascertain their meaning, no matter how much she had tried to deny it from the start. Though she had to admit, no matter the slowly changing nature of their relationship, nothing had seemingly changed in his treatment of her. Since the first day, he had looked at her with that same fondness she caught lingering in his eyes now, and his smiles were always laced with that hint of admiration that she lacked the comprehension to catch onto before. The only difference now was that Cordelia had begun to find herself gazing at him in the same way._

_He opened his mouth slightly, as if to speak, but the closed distance between them seemed to render him at a loss for words, just as the silence seemed to envelop her as well. For some reason, words felt out of place in the space between them, a whisper of breath away from each other. With the slightest inching forward, the tips of their noses would graze delicately._

_She didn’t want to keep denying it anymore – the future was far too uncertain for anymore of this fruitless hesitation. He knew what was running through her mind, from the intensity of his stare, and the indiscrete and very pointed glances towards her lips._

_She knew that – whether she left to discover the rest of the world or was forced to return to her tower for the rest of time – she would never be able to live with herself for letting him slip through her fingers._

_Lifting up onto her elbow to elevate herself, she reached out her opposite hand to lightly rest atop his, still resting on his chest as he lay down, incapable of moving a muscle. His palm flipped almost immediately, threading his fingers through her own to press their palms flush together._

_With hair hanging down the sides of her face, dangling around his position on the ground, she lowered her face down towards his, as her other hand came to rest on his shoulder._

_His free hand reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, as it threatened to dangle right into his mouth. The memory of their first meeting was not lost on either of them, breaking into secretive grins, with small breaths of laughter._

_She shut her eyes and closed the agonisingly small distance between them._

_Cordelia knew that her experience in the world was limited._

_But she needed no worldly experiences to know that **this was right.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp...that just happened. see ya'll next week ;))


	7. The Dashing White Sergeant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne finally meets up with Ruby and her friends, and an unexpected guest shows up - not a bad night out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friendsss! more than halfway through the story wow :0 thank you for all your continued support - the comments on the last chapter had me smiling all week! 
> 
> hope you enjoy today's chapter - and always drink responsibly ;) xx

“I refuse to believe that.” Diana interjected, putting her hand up to Anne’s face as they continued to walk down the street.

“Diana, please. Do we have to keep having this conversation? It’s the last thing I want to be discussing tonight.” She groaned, resisting the temptation to rub her eyes in frustration. The eyeliner her friend has spent so long on would _not_ be ruined tonight – let alone before they even got to the bar.

“Yes, Anne! I don’t understand how you can keep denying this! You _kissed_ him, for god’s sake!” She hissed without malice, instead nudging her shoulder with her own to throw her a little off balance. “That’s not what I would necessarily deem a ‘professional partnership’.”

Taking a deep breath and getting back to her grounded state, she replied. “I hate to burst your bubble, dearest, but whatever you think is going on, is far from the truth of the situation. The kiss was purely for research purposes, and he agreed as such.”

“Yeah, I’d love to see that in writing from him at some point.” Diana jostled, leaving Anne no time for rebuttal before she pointed towards the end of the street in question. “That’s the place over there, right?”

The redhead peered in the direction of her friend’s outstretched arm and squinted to read the text on the flashing neon sign she had been referring to. When Ruby had invited her and Diana to come out that night to The Dashing White Sergeant, Anne had, quite frankly, no idea what to expect. But there it was, in all its fluorescent glory.

“Yep, looks like it.” She agreed, turning to her friend and innocently shrugging her shoulders. “I guess this conversation will just have to wait, my sweets.”

And with that, she turned back to the path ahead, trying to put some distance between the two of them as she hot-footed it towards the bar, stifling her laughter as she heard Diana’s exasperated cries behind her as she tried to catch up.

“Get back here! This conversation is not over! I will get to the bottom of this, I promise you – would you slow down!”

* * *

“Anne! You made it!” Ruby squealed excitedly, leaping out of her stool at the counter and bounding over to envelop her in a bone-crushing hug – one that Anne happily reciprocated.

“Of course! It’s so good to see you again!” She exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut and laughing along with the giddy friend in her arms. As she pulled back and opened her eyes again, she caught sight of the group of girls – and one guy – sitting and standing around Ruby’s empty seat, watching on in amusement. While Ruby got distracted by Diana, running over to welcome her (an interaction consisting of almost just as much hugging as the last), Anne stood nervously in place, unsure of whether she should go and meet the group now, rather than wait for the other two girls to finish.

The group didn’t seem to be indifferent to their presence, despite the fact that they were essentially complete strangers. Their faces reflected a genuine interest in the two newcomers, and Anne took the momentary lapse of comfortable silence from her vantage point to survey the group for herself. The girls looked to her to resemble some kind of assorted packet of candies, with the mix-matched colours of their dresses contrasting nicely between them. She took particular delight in the slightly larger girl’s dress – a becoming shade of Anne’s favourite colour, green – and the taller, blonde girls bright red top. Though that wasn’t her favourite colour, she knew that stemmed from her complete inability to wear the colour without it horribly clashing with her redheaded mop.

But she did know _someone_ who liked the colour. 

* * *

_“Your favourite colour?” “_

_I’m curious. Is that really necessary for your story?”_

_“It’s absolutely necessary. It’s the smallest details that matter, Gilbert.”_

_“I don’t know. I think you just want to know for yourself.”_

_“Look, you’re the one who wanted to do this like it’s ‘20 Questions’, so just answer the question.”_

_He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he looked down to his lap. Anne gestured for him to give up his answer, pen poised at the ready and ears perked. Out of the corner of her mind, she distinctly listened out for any call from the barista that their coffees were ready, but at this point, she was losing hope. ‘Grumpy barista’ had been in a real mood that day – more so than usual, somehow – and had been agonisingly slow in taking their order._

_“Okay.” He finally responded, but the sly grin on his face had Anne on edge – that look was becoming all too familiar. “Red.”_

_Frantically attempting to ignore the growing flush in her cheeks, spreading right back to the tips of her ears, she reminded herself that this was just his way of riling her up, and that it didn’t really mean anything._

_She’d be stupid to think it meant anything at all._

_“Right. And it has nothing to do with you just wanting to get a rise out of me…” She managed to sound more annoyed than she actually was, hopefully enough to distract him from the embarrassingly obvious pause she had taken to respond. Still, she went to write down his answer._

_“And if I am?”_

_“What?” She jerked her head back up in his direction, still hunched over her notes. He had leaned down ever so slightly to equal her line of vision, resulting in yet another instance where Gilbert Blythe seemed to have no consideration for lack of proximity._

_“Did I get a rise out of you?”_

_She swallowed to choke down the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, moving on as quickly as possible before the look he was giving her caused her any more trouble. “Next question…”_

_Before she got the chance to move on to the next question, he interrupted. “Actually, it’s my go, isn’t it? Pretty sure that’s how ‘20 Questions’ works.” Blowing a sharp breath out of her nose, she put her pen down, leaning back into her seat and gesturing for him to continue. “Fine.”_

_Tapping his finger against his chin in mock thought, he came to his conclusion within a few seconds. “What’s your favourite colour?”_

_“Easy. Green.” She responded quickly and confidently, almost making him start from the energy of her answer. On his recovery, a knowing look shadowed over his face. “Of course. Should’ve seen that one coming.”_

_She lilted in eyebrow in curiosity. “And why is that? You think you have me pegged already?”_

_“Oh, definitely not. Not sure I’ll ever get there.” He scoffed, before his eyes flitted down to her hands against the table in front her. “But…I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as in love with nature as you are.”_

_No matter how soft his voice went towards the end of his sentence, or how the usage of “love” made her throat close up once more, she found herself becoming embarrassed. She knew that people often frowned upon her obsession with nature, thinking it bordered on downright weird, so she had spent years suffering through her unconfident justifications in an attempt to ease the passive insult. “Yes, well…” She brought her hands off the table, so that she could fidget with them underneath the table without Gilbert’s knowing. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with appreciating the world around you, that’s all…”_

_Perhaps it was her weak tone of voice that gave her away, but Gilbert swiftly realised that she had started her shame spiral and rushed to interrupt before she could get too embarrassed. “I never said that was a bad thing.” When she looked back up to him, he had that damned softness back in his eyes, and his own gaze flitted across her figure for a moment before she realised that he wasn’t done. “It’s probably one of my favourite things about you.”_

_There it was. That kind of sincerity that Gilbert somehow managed to sneak into their conversations covertly, abruptly stealing her ability to use her extensive knowledge of the English language. Although, he had developed that habit early on, but this cycle had become more common in their last few meetings. She attempted not to reminisce on it, but she knew that it had started happening ever since the kiss._

_Since that day, where she had been so convinced that things could go back to normal, her brain had started interrupting her day-to-day activities, at the most inappropriate times, with thoughts she had stubbornly tucked into the furthest corner of her mind. But apparently her brain thought it important for her to remember how soft his lips were, or the way her hands moulded around his shoulders in a perfectly fitted grip, or the way he might have been reaching for her lips again when she finally let go._

_It was pathetic how much she had been thinking about the incident, since she knew deep down that it would never mean anything. Luckily, she had managed to keep her rogue thoughts at bay while meeting with Gilbert – at least enough that they weren’t noticeable from the outside looking in._

_But it was these moments – where a tense silence stretched between them, and their eyes remained locked on each other – that made those thoughts very hard to ignore. Sometimes, if she thought too hard about it, she could swear that he was having the very same thoughts. She refused to consider that as a real possibility, however. If that were the case, she would need to actually address the needy little voice in her head._

_The one that reminded her that part of her really wanted to kiss him again._

_Stifled by the growing tension, she blurted out the first thing she could think of._

_“He’s still named after you.”_

_It rushed out of her mouth so fast that she nearly got tongue tied. His immediate response was to stir from his spot, eyebrows dipping into an unreadable expression. “Sorry, what?”_

_She swallowed thickly. “Gilbert Blythe. I never came up with a better name for the character. I can’t bring myself to change it to something else.”_

_“How come?” Somehow, without the silence, there was still leftover tension behind the conversation. His question seemed loaded._

_She considered. There was only one answer, and it might just be too honest._

_“…He’s just too much like you.”_

_Right when the realisation seemed to hit him, her name was called. She dashed from the table, as soon as she could get her legs working, before her companion could respond. There was no way she was continuing that conversation._

* * *

“You’re the famous Anne, then?” A voice jolted her from her daydream, as she became aware of the male of the group calling to her. She smiled warmly and met them closer to the bar, standing beside them and trying not to come off too nervous.

“Yeah! That’s Diana over there with Ruby. Nice to meet you guys.”

“I’m Cole – this is Josie, Jane and Tillie. We’re Ruby’s friends from college.” He gestured around the circle, giving Anne a chance to figure out who was who within the line of girls, all wearing welcoming smiles.

Tillie surged forward, touching her arm. “Ruby told us all about how you saved her ass at that party the other week.” Hums of agreement and recognition could be heard around the group.

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a big deal.” She insisted, not entirely enjoying the attention. “She was going through it and she definitely needed some time to breathe.”

“Ugh, don’t get me _started_ on that guy.” Josie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We don’t mention his name in this household anymore.”

Anne raised an eyebrow in shock. “He was really that bad?”

“You have _no_ idea.” Jane assured her in annoyance. “Thankfully, Ruby’s finally stopped mourning the whole thing this week.”

“ _Jane!_ ”

“Not her fault, I know! I’m just saying, it’s good that she’s getting out there again!” They all chuckled at Jane’s defensive response, Anne enjoying the easy company she was finding with the group.

“Yeah, she’s moved on, alright.” Tillie giggled, side-eyeing the girls cheekily, and leaving Anne feeling slightly out of her depth again.

Cole seemed to realise her confusion, butting in to help her out. “Ruby wouldn’t have said anything, but the only reason we’re even at this bar is because the cute guy she met at the record shop is playing with his band. Look.” He moved towards her, shifting her body to face the stage at the opposite side of the room, with a few boys and one girl roaming round, setting up their amps and plugging their instruments in.

“Which one am I meant to be looking at right now?” She inquired, before Cole subtly pointed towards the left-hand side of the set, where a tall, shaggy-haired boy stood, testing out the bass guitar in his hands.

“What are you guys doing?” Ruby’s high-pitched voice broke them from their vantage point, making them turn back to the group. Ruby and Diana must have joined the group while her attention had been diverted, and the blonde girl seemed to be a little ashamed of herself, with her chin tucked and her arms crossed over her chest. “I told you, Cole, he’s just been really nice to me…”

“Hey, go for it Ruby! Seriously, if anyone deserves to find a good guy like that, it’s you.” Josie reached for the smaller girl, wrapping her arms protectively around her, causing her to giggle as she tried to escape her hold. “And besides, I think it’s time we moved on from dating asshats, don’t you think?” Ruby only blushed in reply.

“If you guys are done…” Jane interrupted, propped up close to the bar and already signalling for the bartender at the other side of the counter, “…are we gonna order some more drinks or just sit here yapping?” 

* * *

Anne thought it was a fair assumption to say that the night had been an absolute _blast_ so far.

However-many shots in, the majority of the group had since migrated to the empty space in front of the stage, fashioned into a make-shift dance floor by the flock of patrons who had begun jumping around with their friends to the bands set. So far, the band had been sticking with the cult classics that everyone knew, without having to steer into the trashier songs yet. Still, Anne didn’t think she was quite tipsy enough to dance freely at that point. Besides, she had been enjoying having a chat with Cole at the tables closer to the entrance. She had no idea what kind of lucky streak she was currently experiencing, but somehow, she had managed to procure multiple new kindred spirits within a little over a month.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” She asked, raising her voice to speak over the music as she returned to sip her drink again. Cole nodded, gesturing for her to ask away, and she put her drink down. “What made Ruby’s ex such an asshat?”

He cackled at her choice of words, the alcohol clearly starting to hit his system a little harder. “Yeah, Josie really hated that guy from the start. Though, completely understandable. He was an absolute dud.”

As they recovered from their laughter, Cole calmed himself down and spoke with more sincerity. “Honestly, he was obviously never as into her as she was him. They were only together for a few months, but he never seemed to make an effort. We tried to warn her early on, but…once Ruby likes someone, she gets really…attached. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but with guys like that, she just puts them on a pedestal for no reason.

“That’s why we were all so keen to meet you.” He put his hand out to rest on her shoulder. “We’ll always be there for her, but it’s good that Ruby’s expanding her circle of friends a little bit. It helps that you and Diana are good people. She needs that.”

Moved by his words, Anne sniffled a little and nodded in agreement. “I know I haven’t known her for a long time, but I know that if there’s anyone who deserves someone that appreciates them, it’s Ruby.”

He opened his mouth to continue the conversation, but his gaze flickered momentarily to the entrance behind her, getting stuck on something outside of her line of vision. He gripped her shoulder as she attempted to turn around, intrigued by what he had seen, and lowered his tone conspiratorially, leaning in to speak quieter in the midst of the loud chorus.

“Don’t look now, but there is an absolute _snack_ by the door, and he is definitely looking in our direction.”

Anne’s eyes widened in alarm and she fought the urge to turn around and catch his attention.

Cole shook her shoulder jokingly. “Don’t worry. I have that effect on guys. Apparently, according to Tillie, I must exude ‘single’ energy.” Laughing along with him, his grip solidified again, catching her off guard. His own eyes had significantly widened, and he looked like he was about to burst with excitement. “Okay, code red, code red. He’s coming over here. I repeat, he’s-”

“Anne?”

You’re kidding.

She flipped around in her seat at the sound of the all too familiar timbre of the voice behind her, almost falling off of her stool with the energy she used to turn around. “ _Gilbert?_ ”

“What are you doing here?” He asked in bewilderment. She took a moment to survey his figure in front of her while she formed a response and had to abruptly shift her eyes back up to his face in order to stop her mind from wandering places it definitely shouldn’t have been. Though, to be fair, that shirt was far too tight for its own good, and it didn’t leave much to her imagination.

“Ah-I’m with Ruby and her friends! She invited me out for the night! More importantly, what are you doing here?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m actually here for a friend too. He’s in the band tonight.” On cue, he gestured up towards the stage, catching Anne by surprise by pointing towards the object of Ruby’s affection – Moody Spurgeon, as she had learnt from the girls earlier.

“You’re kidding.” She replied, incredulously. When he turned to her in confusion, she figured it was easier to show him. Instinctively, she grabbed his outstretched arm, still stuck in the gesture from before, and moved it further down towards the front of the stage, where Ruby stood. From the distance, they could still see the way that she cheered on Moody, right in front of him - and from Gilbert’s flickering glances between her enthusiastic support and the affectionate look on Moody’s face, she could tell it was starting to dawn on him.

“You’re kidding!” He echoed her, eliciting some chuckles from the two of them at the absurdity of the situation.

“Well, anyway, uh – how’s the story going so far?” He brought his arm down as they started to settle down, bringing her back down to earth a little.

“Really well! It’s going really well!” She could tell she was definitely talking too loud for the lack of distance between them, but she could chock that up to the fact that she was starting the feel the buzz of the alcohol really hit her. Gilbert made no move to comment on it, thankfully, instead just smiling down at her with a hint of that signature tease. “I suppose I have you to thank for that, obviously.”

She didn’t think better of it before she said it, but the sentimentality wasn’t entirely lost on her. It apparently wasn’t lost on Gilbert either, who warmed up even more, inching the slightest bit closer. “It’s no trouble. I’m sure you would’ve done well with or without my help in the end.”

“Is that right?” She felt Cole tugging on her arm gently in the background but didn't take much notice. The look Gilbert gives her, pointedly lingering southwards on her face, draws her in.

“Something tells me there’s not much you wouldn’t succeed at.”

Just like that, she ran dry once more, opening her mouth to fire back but coming up empty. He noticed, but made no move to say anything either, leaving the two of them curling their fists in their close proximity, unsure of what to say - or do – next.

“I’m Cole, by the way.”

She picked up on the, hardly subtle, sarcasm in his tone, but when he came into her line of vision, he looked as though he was trying to stifle his laughter, while he extended his hand toward Gilbert for an introductory hand shake – a movement that caught the boy off guard, jerking his head to see him entering their space.

Clearing his throat abruptly, he offered a smile and shook his hand. “I’m Gilbert, Anne’s…”

While he looked towards her for confirmation, she realised that he was probably confused as to what they would call their relationship when talking to other people - especially people who didn’t know about their arrangement. Saving him from being left hanging, Cole’s hand still within his in a firm grip, she interrupted them. “Friend. He’s my friend.”

Letting go of Cole’s hand, she had to lower her eyes away from the affectionate look he gave her. _Those were becoming harder and harder to ignore_.

When the small crowd in front of the stage started cheering for the band, the final chord of the song left hanging in the air, Gilbert seemed to come to his senses, abruptly turning in the direction of the noise. The lead singer spoke into the microphone, letting the rest of the bar know that they would be having a quick break, before the group began drifting off the stage and mingling with the partygoers.

Opening and shutting his mouth, he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I, uh – I guess I better go. Moody’ll be waiting for me to show up.” Glancing pointedly at Anne, his eyebrows raised in hope. “I’ll…see you in a bit?”

“Yeah, of course.” She absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of her dress by her knees. “I’ll come find you later.”

After he grinned and nodded in response, leaving for the stage with an adorable bounce in his step, she couldn’t help but watch him walk away until he eventually disappeared into the throng of the crowd by the bandmates.

Interrupted from her thoughts by Cole’s abrupt cough, she whirled around, forcing her eyes to focus back on her new friend. His smirk, accompanied with the knowing glint in his eyes, had lit his face up with mischief.

“Seems to me,” he stirred the straw of his drink slowly, “that you already found that someone.”

“Huh?” Her eyebrows scrunched together as her mouth hung open slightly in confusion. She had no clue what he was referring to.

He simply shook his head and sipped the rest of his drink, before grabbing her empty glass from her hands. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

Just as she went to question him once more and get something a little more than just a cryptic response, she saw Diana and Ruby wander up towards the table, apparently in a fit of giggles. As Cole turned, noticing the sound of the two girls coming as well, he gave her another look.

“Time for a refill?” 

* * *

“…and he asked me to come to their next show!” Ruby squealed, grabbing Anne’s forearm on the countertop of the bar. “Can you believe it?”

“Yes! Did you even _see_ the way he was looking at you up there?” She assured her, shaking the hand on her arm and laughing along with Diana at the girl’s giddy behaviour. “A blind man would be able to see what’s going on with you two!”

She heard Diana’s good-natured scoff beside her. “That’s rich coming from ‘little Miss Denial” over here.”

Shooting her a playful glare and nudging her with her elbow, she chose to leave the comment alone, not wanting to get into that discussion right now – particularly with the amount of alcohol in her system. She had a feeling the tequila shot she had just taken would have her spilling up the confusing little feelings she had been subject to the last couple of weeks if she even brought up his name.

“Oh! You two _have_ to come to Josie’s Halloween party! You’ll love it!” Ruby interjected, seemingly unaware of the secretive interaction in front of her.

“Party, you say?” Diana joked, leaning forward in interest.

“She’s been planning it for ages. Her parents are going on a weekend vacation to visit their friends in Toronto for a birthday, or a wedding – something like that. The house is huge, and all our other college friends are coming too! You’d fit right in! Oh, please say you’ll come, please!”

The two girls shot the other a look, forming into excited grins with no discussion required. Anne quickly shot back, “If we’re available, we’ll be there. As long as Josie says it’s okay.”

“Yay!” She cheered, falling forward slightly on her stool, requiring Diana to hold her upright through a chorus of laughter. “I’ll talk to her, but she’ll _absolutely_ say yes! So, get thinking about costumes – it’s _mandatory_ costumes!”

While Anne’s mind had already begun racing with the possibilities of her potential costumes, Diana hand on her wrist jolted her to reality. Clueing back into her surroundings, she noticed that the band had moved onto their next set. The familiar progression had already begun playing, and Anne’s eyes widened in recognition as the first few lines of the Bryan Adams song rang out through the speakers.

_“I got my first real six-string…Bought it at the five-and-dime…”_

No words were necessary as Anne whooped in excitement along with the rest of the patrons, pulling along Diana and Ruby to join the rest of the group, who had congregated to the centre of the floor simultaneously.

Anne knew she wasn’t the best dancer in the world; in her opinion, it was hard to be a coordinated mover when her limbs were so gangly. Nevertheless, with the right combination of songs, alcohol and kindred spirits, she somehow managed to lose all her inhibitions on the dance floor. It took little time for her to find her groove with the girls: spinning Jane around; shredding on the air-guitar with Josie and Ruby; screaming along to the lyrics with Diana (what could she say? She and her dearest had always an appreciation for _Summer of 69_.)

By the time the first chorus wrapped up, she had already begun to feel the thin sheen of sweat along her forehead and felt as carefree as she had ever been. Resting a little from her jumping, she surveyed the group in front of her, her heart growing enormously at the sight of such dear friends – that she had only just met, no less.

In her pause, she managed to clue into the pair of eyes following her movement. Spinning around to catch them, she found the familiar silhouette of her “muse” – she had regrettably grown to like the sound of that endearment – on the edge of the floor, back by the tables again.

She was surprised to find that he didn’t seem to be dancing at all; in fact, he was one of the only people left in the bar who hadn’t gotten up to dance for the second set. Instead, with a drink in his hand, he simply stood with his other hand tucked into his pocket, looking unashamedly in her direction with an unreadable expression on his face. _God, would he please stop doing that?_

She wondered how long he had been watching her. The thought of it brought a flush to her face, which she was sure was only made worse by the sweaty state of her.

Desperate not to sober up in embarrassment, she pushed aside the thought and caught his attention with a wave, which he returned shyly, with what looked like a chuckle. Deciding that no one should be left to the side of the floor for that iconic bop, she weaved her way towards him, painting a mock offended look onto her face as she finally reached his spot.

“What? I love this song!” She pouted, hands on her hips in challenge.

“I can tell.” He jeered, before he lost a little of the light in his eyes when his gaze flicked back towards the rest of the group, who had somehow kept up their chaotic belting during the second verse. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Before she could think better of it – the dimming of his expression having much more power over her in her inebriated state – Anne took the virtually empty glass from his hand and placed it on the nearest table, grasping his now empty hand in hers, and attempting to drag him out with her.

Of course, he began insisting that he was “fine to stay on the side, really – I don’t dance much, so I don’t…” But before he could get far with that argument, he had already been pulled through to the centre, with a bit of distance between the two of them and the rest of the group.

She turned back to face him, able to overlook the closed distance between them in her hazy mindset. “Come on! Dance with me, _my muse_!”

She knew exactly what she was doing – using that term was bringing out the big guns. Hearing her say it out loud seemed to lift his spirits significantly, a glowing grin slowly creeping onto his face as he looked down at her in surprise. With the lack of complaining, she took the opportunity to get back into the beat of the song, just as the second chorus started to wrap up. She bounced along with the other people around her, closing her eyes to get back the energised feeling from earlier.

Within a few moments, she noticed Gilbert had remained relatively still. His body had started to move with the rest of the patrons, but instead of jumping along, he simply pulsed to the beat, choosing to let Anne do all the work apparently.

Trying to get him a little more hyped up and enjoying himself, Anne caught herself up with the next few lyrics and paused her dancing to hold her hand up as a makeshift microphone, putting on a dramatic expression and gesturing around, as she mouthed the words along with the vocalist.

 _“Man, we were killin’ time, we were young and restless, and needed to unwind!”_ Fist pumping the air with her eyes squeezed shut, she poked one open to check his reaction. Thankfully, it had worked. He had bent over in laughter at her ridiculousness, the raucous sound being music to her ears. She couldn’t help but grin, pulling him upright with one hand, and holding her clenched fist in front of his mouth, an expectant and challenging look on her face.

With a sigh and a well-meaning eye roll, he grabbed her wrist and copied her actions from earlier as the next few lines rolled through.

 _“I guess nothin’ can last forever, forever, no!”_ She couldn’t stop herself from letting out her own laughter as she watched him with pride. With his eyes shut, his hand splayed out on his chest and his head turned towards the ceiling, he was clearly trying to get a good reaction out of her. And it was definitely working.

When the instrumental cut in, he opened his eyes to find her well within his personal space – the act of using her fist as a microphone causing him to pull her closer to him unconsciously – and for a moment, the rest of the music seemed to blur into the background. Even though his eyes held her with some newfound intensity, she found herself made comfortable again by the relaxed and carefree smile he had on his face.

When they finally broke out of their little moment of ecstasy, Anne grabbed his other hand to join them completely, giving her an opportunity to get him dancing around with her as well. This time, when she started energetically dancing around to the final verse, Gilbert had no other choice but to get a little more involved than last time.

“How do you do that?” She heard him shout over the noise, bringing her back to face him, not willing to stop their dance yet.

“Do what?” She questioned.

“Just dance, like it’s not the weirdest thing in the world!”

Laughing incredulously, she pulled his arms over head, before pulling them back and forth between them to get a little ‘paddling’ motion going – mainly to keep up the joy coursing through her own body – and leaning towards him. “Just forget about everyone else! Enjoy it! When else do you get to be so free?”

“That’s easy for you to say! You’re a good dancer – I am most definitely not!”

“It’s not about being good, Gilbert! Nobody here is a good dancer! It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks about you, as long as you’re happy!” The next words come out a little softer and more hopeful than she had intended. “Are you happy right now, Gilbert?”

He practically beamed. “Yeah. I am.”

She could hardly hear him over the music, but she still did. The buzz in her head began to clear, yet she felt no need to sober up and leave their little space. “So, go with it! Do whatever feels right! Besides, the song is nearly over, and I will NOT waste the rest of _Summer of 69_ talking you into it!" Grasping one of his hands more firmly – and simultaneously realising she hadn’t let go of him yet – she implored him. “ _Just dance with me, Gil_.”

With her newfound confidence, she soaked in the moment. Gilbert looked taken aback by the new nickname as he sucked in a silent breath, drawing Anne’s eyes down to his lips for just a fleeting second. And there, in the back of Anne’s mind, that dreaded thought reared its unwanted head. What if she just…

Before she could finish her thought, the final chorus kicked in, and Gilbert took a chance to spin her around with one arm, putting some space between them again and, to her surprise, belting out the lyrics. With some wide sweeping arms and some jumping, it seemed like he was finally getting the hang of it. Who would she be to not join him in his success?

It seemed her pep talk did more than encourage him, as it took the band finally packing up for the night for him to exit the floor.

It took even longer for Anne to leave him as the night came to an end. -

* * *

_“Come on, Gilbert! Let’s join them!” Dragging his arm into the centre of the square, she ignored his half-hearted groans of protest, intent on getting to the gathering circle of villagers. She knew this posed potential risk for her, but there was no way she was not going to get involved in the festivities._

_She had known about the celebrations in the common part of the village, where people gathered in the square to celebrate the beginning of the harvest with song and dance. But she had obviously never dared to dream that she would experience this for herself. Speaking with Gilbert, he had assured her that he would escort her to the celebrations, since she had somehow never been to one before, and would need someone to help her find her way around the festivities. She teased him relentlessly that it surely had ‘absolutely nothing to do with trying to garner more of her affection’. She wondered quietly if there was any affection left within her that she hadn’t already devoted to him._

_The sun had begun to set shortly before the first dance of the evening had been announced, and Cordelia knew that she would need to leave before long. The arrangement she had managed to establish was so unsteady, she was unsure if the turn of the night would be the last night that she would ever see Gilbert again. Therefore, rather than dwelling in her own melancholy, she was determined to make the most out of the time they had together._

_“Alice, slow down! I’m coming!” Gilbert laughed as they entered the ring of other dancers, slotting themselves between two middle-aged women. She shook her head, ridding herself of the uneasy feeling that somehow crept in whenever he used her false name. Many times, she managed to ignore it, but sometimes, in their more intimate moments, she longed for him to use her real name, to whisper it reverently against her cheek while he twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers delicately._

_But alas, that was a fate she would not be destined for. The risk was far too great as it stood, and she refused to put him in more danger._

_Despite the tender kiss they had shared (and the many secret pecks since that day) neither of them had openly suggested courtship as of yet. Cordelia knew she had a reasonable excuse – she would only be setting the both of them up for disappointment if she were to agree, and she would never be able to promise him the relationship she knew that he deserved – but she didn’t understand why Gilbert hadn’t openly broached the subject. More than once, she had caught him with his mouth open, words perched on the tip of his tongue as though he had something important to say, but never had he managed to form the words. Instead, he would stare fleetingly into her eyes, before faltering under her curious glance and moving on._

_Although she knew they could never, it hadn’t stopped her from dreaming that he would at least **ask** her. The selfishness and irony were not lost on her. _

_Grasping his hand as the musicians began playing in the middle of the circle, she stroked her thumb along the back of his palm in the boldest form of public affection she could muster. The returning squeeze was enough to puff her chest with fresh air and lift her feet from the ground as the circle started rotating with skipping movements._

_She felt her lungs fill to the brim, an ear-splitting grin overcoming her as they reversed and began weaving between partners, Gilbert ‘s line heading in the opposite direction. Though she made sure to pay enough attention to her partners as they continued in their motions, bouncing to each side and joining hands for a brief spin, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from her lover, dancing across from her. He seemed to have a similar problem, accidentally stepping on the toes of one of his unfortunate partners, causing him to apologise profusely and move on as quickly as possible. Cordelia, on the other hand, found the whole ordeal to be hilarious – not to mention adorable._

_She couldn’t help the excitement coursing through her veins as she got closer and closer to him. Losing herself in the rhythm, she spun with loose movements through her next pattern, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments and soaking in the sheer joy in the air._

_Before she knew what had hit her, the final pattern had begun, and she found herself face to face with Gilbert once more. The mischievous twinkle in his eye broke her from her carefree motions, standing in challenge before him and going through the steps, taking little notice of them. The two of them couldn’t tear their eyes from the other’s._

_Joining their hands in a tender embrace, the glint in his eye had long vanished, replaced with some kind of hunger that she was sure was only mirrored on her own expression. Her fingers tightened with her intake of breath, while he pulled her closer than necessary for their turn. Their faces were now mere inches away, and she fought with everything she had not to kiss him senseless right then and there._

_The music had begun to wrap up, with one final flourish of the instruments and some cheering from the gathered crowd. But they took no notice. Gilbert slowly pulled their hands back down from where they hung between their chests, holding her closer to him still, the intensity of the moment still wavering in the air. While the group began to wander off in packs to the other festivities, Cordelia brought one wavering palm up to his cheek, grazing the skin beneath his eyes with the gentlest of touches. He shivered beneath her hand, coming to rest his forehead against hers, not seeming to care about the very open space they were in._

_Shattering their wonderful moment, an old woman knocked into Cordelia from behind, muttering under her breath about ‘highly inappropriate behaviour’ and ‘how improper’ they were acting. Jolting from the reaction, she became more aware of her surroundings – most notably, the fact that the sun was well and truly set. She was almost out of time._

_“I-I have to go.” She blurted out, grasping his forearms and avoiding his eyes. “Must you go? There’s still some more dances later…” He replied, every word tinted with the smallest amount of hope._

_“I’m sorry…I don’t have a choice.” She breathed, finally meeting his look. The worried scrunch of his eyebrows almost made her sigh out loud._

_“Is something wrong?” This time it was his hand that came to cradle the back of her head._

**_Tell him the truth._ **

**_You have to tell him._ **

_She opened her mouth._

**_You can’t._ **

_With words failing her, she did the only thing she thought would bring him some relief. Perching onto her toes, she grasped the collar of his vest and pulled him in for a chaste, but lengthy kiss. Just as his other arm curled round her waist, she pulled away, still feeling dazed._

_“Can I come see you again tomorrow?” She whispered._

_“Please.” The hoarseness of his voice forced her to hold onto his vest a little tighter, the weakness of her knees nearly failing her._

_With a kiss to the cheek, she gathered up her cloak and fled the square as quickly as possible._

_As a solitary tear ran down her cheek halfway to the place, she realised how difficult it was becoming to leave him._

_She wondered how long until she couldn’t anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> picture for me if you will: the book section of today's chapter was inspired by the kingdom dance from tangled oop -
> 
> see you guys next week! xxx


	8. The Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert opens up to Anne, and she comes to a startling realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo! new chapter for you guys xx
> 
> NOTE: this chapter delves into themes of grief and parental loss, so just a note if you are particularly sensitive towards those kinds of topic x I hope I could portray this in a realistic way, or as realistic as possible from Gilbert and Anne's perspective.
> 
> Without further ado, hope you enjoy :))

_**(sent):** Hey can I call you? _

Anne knew that calling each other had yet to become the new normal between the two of them, but when Gilbert suggested they start chatting over a phone call instead of over text for their, almost nightly, conversations, she couldn’t deny how happy the thought had made her. Talking to him over texts had been enjoyable, but getting to actually hear his voice, all be it over the phone, managed to help her destress a little more at the end of the day. Not to mention that it was easier to double check any last-minute questions she had for him before she polished up the latest chapters.

Today had been a particularly successful day. Aside from a last-minute lunch date with Diana, she had also finished off two new chapters, bringing her much closer to the penultimate moments of the book. She knew it wouldn’t be long until Cordelia’s secret would be discovered – now all she had to do was figure out how Gilbert would react to it.

But there was also another aspect she had yet to consider properly. She had shared the story so far with Diana, and while she had reassured her that she had been thoroughly enjoying the piece so far, she found the love interest to be a little too… _perfect._

Anne had been a little shocked at first – she hadn’t even considered the possibility that Gilbert had come across like such an unrealistically perfect character. How could she have let that slip? Looking back through her writing that afternoon, she had realised she was right. Aside from the obvious altercation they had during their first encounter, where he had been arrogant and unkind towards her without even realising it, she hadn’t found anything in her writing to suggest Gilbert having his own problems.

She supposed she felt guilty trying to write something even remotely ‘negative’ about him. It could also have something do with the fact that she hadn’t found anything to fault in Gilbert.

She wasn’t setting out to find any of that by calling that night. Truly, she just wanted to chat with him. She hadn’t seen him in a few days since their last meeting and she had been becoming a little restless sometimes when she was at home alone. Now that they’d gotten so close, she had started to noticeably miss his presence when he wasn’t around.

Honestly, it was starting to scare her a little.

But she did have a completely unrelated, valid reason for calling him as well; she could at least attest to that. She would have spoken to him about her request on Thursday anyway, and by then it would have been way too late for her to expect him to be available.

The phone buzzed, his caller ID flashing onto the screen as she scrambled to pick it up from her bedside table. Realising how desperate she would look if she picked up almost immediately after he called her, she waited a few seconds, tapping her finger on her crossed knee before swiping across and bringing the mobile up to her ear.

“Hey, Gil.” She tried not to sound too anxious.

“Hey, what did you want to talk about?”

“I…well, I had a couple of things I wanted to talk about. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but he sounded different than usual. He wasn’t snapping, but it felt like it was taking a lot more effort for him to engage in the conversation than normal. Usually, he would be the one livening up their talks, constantly making sure he brought up something new for them to talk about or asked her interesting questions. Something didn’t feel right, but she wasn’t sure if she should broach the subject just yet. Maybe he was just tired?

“Well, Ruby – you remember Ruby, the girl from the bar?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, she invited Diana and I to her friend’s Halloween house party this weekend. I know, it sounds kind of stupid to have a house party since we’re not in high school anymore, but she thinks it will be really fun-“

“What does this have to do with me? No offence, Anne.”

She swallowed, trying very hard to not overthink that response. “We were both going to go, but Diana ended up getting called in to work late, so she would only be able to go to the party for an hour or two. I don’t want to go on my own, and Ruby said I should bring someone else, so I was…just wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“..did you want to come with me?”

He was silent on the other line, and Anne couldn’t stop herself from rambling to fill in the silence and prolong, what she assumed was, the inevitable rejection. “It’s not like a double costume scenario we’re talking about here, but it is costumes, so I’m sure we could come up with something super easy for you to wear, but I get it, it’s super last minute and it’s kind of a-“

“Yeah, okay.”

“-stupid idea anyway…Okay? Is that a yes?” She trailed off, unsure.

“That’s a yes, Anne.”

“Oh, okay. Perfect - cool! Thanks!” She bubbled with excitement as she let it sink in a little more.

“Was there something else?” Okay, there was no denying that something was eating Gilbert. She could’ve sworn that she heard a raspiness in his throat as he spoke, and his tired sounding voice also had a hidden sadness that she had only just started to notice. The way that he seemed to sink every time he stopped talking, the way it seemed like speaking was taking so much effort for him… She had to bite the bullet. If not for his sake, for her own – she knew she wouldn’t sleep well that night unsure if something was really troubling Gilbert. “…Gilbert, is something wrong?”

“…what?” He came to attention a little more.

“You just sound…really tired. Are you okay?”

The radio silence was even worse the second time. She found herself unable to ramble that time, instead hanging onto the sound of his staggered breathing coming through the line quietly.

He spoke up after a moments silence, the sound of his voice somehow gentle and still jarring against the stillness of the last few seconds.

“Anne, can I come see you?”

She blanched, glancing at the clock. It was already seven-thirty. “…Now?”

“Sorry, I know it’s late…I could just use a friendly face right now.”

It was the almost imperceptible crack in his voice that shattered her. How could she ever say no to that?

“You have my address still, yeah?”

* * *

It was almost twenty minutes later that she was alerted to the sound of a gentle rapping against her front door. Alerted was a strong word, considering she had been pacing around the kitchen, waiting for him to get there and wondering if she should get some food ready – or maybe some tea? Perhaps alcohol was needed. She still didn’t know how severe the situation was, so she had no clue what he needed. Still, she was determined to help in any way she could. After all, hadn’t he already done so much for her?

She practically ran to the entrance, unlocking the latch and swinging the door open to reveal his tall frame in the hallway. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of a large grey hoodie, and he looked like he had just rolled straight out of bed – pyjamas and all, if his baggy plaid pants were anything to go by. His hair was also much scruffier than usual, but he wore a somewhat forced smile that managed to distract her.

He clearly knew the sight he must have seemed to her then, because he met her eyes with a hint of apology and embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t want to waste time getting changed.”

She gave as much of a smile as she could, and gestured with self-deprecation to her own outfit, that wasn’t much better than his. In her little panic, she had bothered to brush her hair, throw it into a messy braid and put on some more deodorant, but she had decided against changing out of her sweatpants and jumper, opting for comfort in her own home.

Realising she shouldn’t leave him out in the hallway any longer, she righted herself and stepped to the side, gesturing for him to come in. He nodded in thanks and drifted into the apartment with a walk she could only describe as _lost_. Needless to say, he was doing little to settle her nerves.

Shutting the door, she ushered him further into the main living area while she scurried back into the kitchen. “Did you want something to drink? I was going to make some tea if you wanted some too?”

He stood somewhat awkwardly in the space between the couch and the kitchen bench, clearly unsure of where he should be going, and also looking at her like a startled deer in headlights. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

“You’re _not_ a bother, Gilbert.” She interrupted him, with enough conviction that she hoped he would drop whatever dreadful thought was going through his head. She quickly set about boiling the kettle and grabbing the teabags from the first box she could find in the pantry, not caring much to see which flavour it was. Normally she would have taken her time to choose which type she was in the mood for that night, but she knew that the taste of the tea wouldn’t matter much that night.

While she had started grabbing some mugs for the both of them, he had apparently made the decision to lean himself against the countertop in front of her, leaving them face to face as he made himself comfortable and she set about preparing their drinks. “Sorry about this again. I really don’t mean to intrude, or anything.”

“Gilbert, _stop_ that.” She stopped moving around, facing him head on to make sure he got the message this time. With her brows scrunched together and a frown settling onto her face, she spoke plainly and honestly. “You could never be a bother, so don’t you _dare_ apologise, alright?”

Stunned, he nodded mutely after a few seconds. Satisfied enough with his response, she plopped the tea bags into the mugs and leaned forward onto her elbows on the counter, hopefully making him comfortable enough to start talking. It worked, and he took a deep breath before he finally began talking about what was bothering him so much.

“Today was…it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.” His eyes were trained on his lap, while Anne looked searchingly at him, trying to figure out what the problem was, exactly.

“What was so hard about today?” She gently broached the subject.

He let out a shaky breath, still unable to look her in the eye. “Today is the anniversary. My dad, uh…” He shook himself a little and somehow pulled his head up to give her a misty look. “I don’t think I’ve told you. He passed away a few years ago.”

Something dropped in her chest, and now, she was suddenly struggling to look anywhere but his eyes. How had she never seen the hurt there before? Looking at him now, it seemed like there was a recognisable pain behind his smile, and it should have been impossible for her to miss after all these weeks.

He swallowed when he saw her mouth hanging ajar. “Acute leukemia. He had it for a while, longer than they expected. They had warned us at the start that it was bound to happen eventually. It was only a matter of time. But he fought it. Though, I guess he could only do so much.”

Anne was sure he had never looked so tired. His words were heaped with exhaustion, and she couldn’t stop her own eyes from welling up with tears. She held them back, though. He was holding himself together, so she wouldn’t make it worse for him.

“I was stupid.” He spat. “I wanted, so badly, to believe that he would just recover. That things would just go back to normal eventually – because he was all I had.” His throat sounded so choked that she had to curl her fingers into fists to stop herself from grabbing his own hands, caressing them with words of reassurance.

“My mum died when I was born, so I had never met her. It didn’t feel like I had lost so much since I never really had her to begin with. But this – this was so different. He raised me for sixteen years, and then he was just…gone.” He sighed, his breath shaking as he brought his hands up to lean his forehead against them, rubbing his palms over his eyes. “It’s been years. I thought it would get easier, but every year…”

“It still feels fresh.” She whispered, finishing the sentence. He looked up at her in surprise, his wide eyes starting to well with unshed tears. Anne sniffled, but didn’t bother to hide it anymore. Looking across the counter at Gilbert, she realised that they were kindred in a way she never could have expected – kindred in a way she never thought kindred could be. She wanted nothing more than to reach out for him and reassure him that she understood perfectly what he was feeling, but she couldn’t fight the feeling that it would seem horribly insensitive to take way from his own turmoil.

She didn’t bother to clear her throat before talking, but the throaty voice she spoke with felt appropriate for the atmosphere. “I understand. It’s manageable most days, but these days are always going to be the hardest.” Her hands had begun slowly creeping forward, as her elbows slid along the cool surface, to the point where the tips of her fingers were almost grazing his – a tiny show of comfort and solidarity.

“I’m so _tired_ , Anne.”

She inhaled sharply at the rush of exhaustion that fell from his lips as he spoke and found she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. Darting around to the other side and joining him, she didn’t let herself overthink her actions before wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down towards her for a hug.

He froze in her arms, but she willed herself not to let go, no matter how awkward she felt standing there with him stock-still against her body. But eventually, she felt him start to relax, tipping forward slowly to lean against her weight, wrapping his own arms around her waist and tucking his head into the crook of her neck.

With his new relaxed position, she allowed herself to hold him tighter still - and just as she did, he reflected her, squeezing her so tightly she was sure she would eventually run out of breath. But she didn’t care for that, especially when she felt moisture on her shoulder and a shuddered breath vibrate against her. Instead, she made no plans to move, and held him just like that for, what felt like, hours, with her hands smoothing down the back of his hair and pressing him further against her.

They did move away much later, but neither brought their arms away from the other just yet. Instead, she studied his bloodshot eyes and tried to figure out what to do or say next – something infinitely larger than them seemed to have shifted, and she was unsure where they were meant to go from there.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

The kettle started whistling in the background, and she made a startled yelp, yanking herself way and running back into the kitchen, pouring the hot water into their mugs. Pausing to look back to him, where he looked shell-shocked over at her, she smiled sadly. “We can sit on the couch, if you want.”

He nodded, giving as much of a smile as he could manage, before shuffling off towards the living area. When she finished with the mugs, she carefully carried both of them over to the coffee table, before plopping down gently beside him on the couch, leaving some space between the two of them.

As she tucked her sock covered feet underneath her and leaned back against the cushions, she turned to glance over at him. He looked to be in slightly better spirits, but he could still barely manage to look at her. After everything he had told her, she knew she needed to be honest with him about how much she truly did understand what he was going through.

“I’m an orphan.” She picked at her cuticle but kept looking at him as he spun to face her. “I think I mentioned it before, but I was adopted by the Cuthbert’s when I was twelve. I had been in the foster system since I was three months old, just getting placed in different houses all the time. But they never lasted very long. So, Marilla and Matthew were the only real family I had ever known.”

“But then…” He seemed to realise where she was headed before she got there.

“…Yeah. Matthew.” She murmured. “He was the first person who ever treated me with respect: who made me feel like I was worthy of love. Without him – for so long – it felt like there was nothing here for me anymore. Marilla was still there, of course, and I will always love her endlessly, but it still wasn’t the same.”

She felt his hand reach for hers this time, and she found the irony of the situation almost funny. Almost. She was too caught up in her own wave of sadness to properly process the gentle stroking of his thumb along the top of her knuckles. But she pressed relentlessly on, determined to get to the point of her anecdote.

“You think that it’s just going to go back to normal eventually, but the thing is, normal is different now. Everything is different than what it was before, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Instead of wallowing in the fact that we can’t move on with our lives, we need to carry them with us.” She puts her other hand on top of his, to clasp it between her own. “Gilbert, you can’t be so angry at yourself for feeling like this. It’s okay – it’s more than okay. If you didn’t feel like that, then you wouldn’t really be carrying him with you. As long as he’s still in there, there will always be hard days. But they are made so much easier to bear when you make the most of your good days – and Gilbert, you have _so_ many good days left. I _promise_ you.”

He had tears streaming down his face by the end of her talk, and she knew that a rogue tear had slipped down her own cheek. He didn’t need to say anything. Squeezing her hands the way that he was, she could feel him thanking her over and over again.

“Do you have to be home soon?” She questioned, after they let the comfortable silence linger for a while.

He shook his head. “No. Do you need to go to sleep soon?”

“No.”

With that unspoken understanding between them hanging in the air, she let go of his hands and grabbed the remote off the table, shuffling slightly closer to where their hands had rested between them. From where she sat, she was barely pressed against his thigh – it was only the slightest touch, but it brought some warmth back to her.

Flicking on to Netflix, Anne went to the movie she had been meaning to start watching anyway – which thankfully, happened to be something a bit light-hearted. When she clicked on _Only Yesterday_ , looking to Gilbert in approval, he gave her the first real smile she had seen from him all night. Though, it was still a very watery one.

As the movie began, Anne found herself only half paying attention. She was familiar with the story, and she had watched it a long time ago with Diana, so the plot was the least of her concern. Instead she focused on making sure Gilbert’s breathing remained steady, that he felt calm beside her. That was the priority.

And, for the majority of the movie, he was. He hardly stirred while the children giggled in the classroom, or when Taeko arrived at the station. It was only halfway through the movie that Anne knew Gilbert was paying particular attention - the conversation between Taeko and Toshio on the hill as they looked out at the sunset.

_“If today’s no good, you’ll have tomorrow.”_

_“If tomorrow’s no good, you’ll have the next day.”_

_“If that’s no good, there’ll be another.”_

_“There’s always a tomorrow.”_

She hesitated, only momentarily, before settling further down into the couch, to inch closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder. She hadn’t been focused on any romantic implications – she couldn’t. He was hurting, that was the simple truth. She wanted to remind him that she was right there with him, and that they would hear them out together. He showed his appreciation for the gesture, by immediately tucking his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side, resting his cheek on top of her head, and letting out a long breath he had clearly been holding in.

The movie continued on. They didn’t move after that.

* * *

Anne woke up gradually to the sound of her phone buzzing on the table in front of her. Coming to, she immediately realised that she wasn’t in her bed – in fact, she was still lying on the couch. The first rays of sunlight piercing through the window made her squint, her eyes opening moments after her mind had registered the vibrating sound.

The next thing that registered was the definite feeling of a lumpy surface underneath her, that did not feel like the faux leather she was accustomed to on the couch. Urging her fingertips to come back to life, she could feel the plush cotton of a hoodie, and suddenly, she was frozen.

_Oh my god._

_They had fallen asleep._

Her head sat resting on Gilbert’s chest, leaving her body lying horizontally, basically hanging off the couch as she draped herself over half of Gilbert’s sleeping frame. Tilting her head enough to look up towards him – but not enough to make him stir – she saw that Gilbert had pulled one of her throw pillows to the edge of the couch, where he rested his head at an awkward angle. In a more startling realisation, she became conscious of the supportive arm settling around her back, as he held her to him in their current position.

She swore she hadn’t taken a breath in that last minute, afraid to wake him and deal with the aftermath. But her heart had begun to violently thunder inside of her chest – the intensity so much to her that she worried the feeling of it would be strong enough to wake him up anyway.

In his unconscious state, she felt less guilty for examining him. How could someone still look so _enchanting_ after spending the night asleep in a friend’s living room, after crying all evening? She decided then and there that this had to be a purely ‘Gilbert Blythe’ experience.

_What a splendid chin he had. She had never noticed that before._

Sure, she had long since accepted the fact that Gilbert was _gorgeous_ , but from this new position – being so close to him, for so long – she found yet another perfect view.

But it wasn’t just his looks she found herself admiring in the still of the early morning haze. She flashed back to the look on his face the night before, as he spoke the words that broke her heart.

_I’m so tired, Anne._

She held so much more admiration for his spirit now than she ever had. To hold himself together like he always did and make her think he hadn’t a single problem in the world, all the while carrying the most awful burden: the grief of losing a parent. From experience, she knew she had tried to do the same, and on some days, she had to claw to fight away the crippling loneliness and self-blame. She didn’t see herself as strong – she never had.

But, she supposed, neither did Gilbert.

He truly was some kind of miracle.

“Gil…” She whispered, finally resolving to end his slumber so that he could go home.

The sound of her voice seemed to stir him, but he refused to open his eyes, instead smiling in his sleep and tightening the hold he had around her back, pressing himself, somehow, closer to her. Blushing, and beginning to fully awaken, she whispered louder. “Gil, wake up…”

He rose then, his head lifting to find the source of the sound, and the smile slowly dropped from his lips as he saw their slightly compromising position. She reacted automatically, sucking in a sharp breath and bolting upright, staggering a little from not allowing herself the time to wake up the rest of her body. Meanwhile, he shuffled himself into a sitting position, scrunching his eyes shut and stretching his arms out above his head, before shaking his head. The action only caused his fluffy bed-head style to stick out more. The sight made her giggle.

Coming to his senses, he stood up to mirror her, opening his mouth to say something when they were met with their familiar silence. She couldn’t bring herself to look away, but something inside of her screamed, telling her to run. She succumbed to it, and conveniently ignored that part of her brain whispering loud enough for her to hear, _tell him_.

Tell him what, exactly?

“The bathroom is around the corner.” She blurted out, gesturing towards the hallway a second too late to seem natural. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the cup – it’s the green one.”

He shut his mouth abruptly, looking defeated for a second, before he blinked himself back to life, giving her a warm smile. “Thanks.” He replied, a husky morning voice that made her have to tense every muscle in her body to stop herself from physically shivering. He wandered off to clean himself up but paused just as he was about to enter the room, turning back to her again. “Good morning, by the way.” He teased.

She tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a smile. But if he noticed, she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

* * *

“You’ve got everything?” She questioned, standing in the doorway as he walked past the threshold and into the echoing, empty hallway. Chuckling, he pulled out his keys from one pocket and his phone from the other, shaking them both in front of her.

“Everything accounted for.” He confirmed, jokingly.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise and concern. “You didn’t seriously sleep with those still in your pockets?” She spoke incredulously.

“Anne. Don’t worry.” He said more seriously, shoving them back in his pockets once more. “That was probably the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

Blanching at the implications of his comment, she laughed nervously and crossed her arms, stuffing her hands into the crooks of her elbows in an attempt to hide her fidgeting movements with the sleeves of her jumper. Still, the gratified smile on her face was genuine, and she knew he could see it.

“Are we still on for this week?” He raised his voice, still slightly husky, but filled with fresh hope.

She came back up to face him, her lips quirked into an even bigger smile, and her cheeks flushed with pleasant warmth. “Of course.”

“Oh!” He exclaimed suddenly, with a voice that was still small enough to not wake up the rest of the level. “How ‘costume-y’ is this Halloween party thing? I’m not necessarily a ‘dress up’ kind of guy.”

She pouted with fake annoyance. “Don’t spoil the fun. I’m going all out, and so are you, Gilbert Blythe.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” He smirked.

There he was. The Gilbert she was so familiar with. Somehow, though, he was different. He hadn’t changed, really.

Maybe it was her that had changed.

He took a step forward, hesitant and wide-eyed, before he swallowed obviously and bent over, wrapping her in a hug once more. She wasted no time in gently reciprocating. It was nowhere near the fierceness and desperation of the hug from the previous night. Instead, it was relaxed and calm, but firm enough to tell her was truly grateful, and that he might have been hesitant to let her go as the embrace began to come to an end.

“Thank you again.” He murmured, turning his head to speak closer to her ear, but unintentionally dragging his lips across the side of her hair and making her dig her nose deeper into his hoodie.

Letting go, she slid her hands down his arms, quickly shoving them back across her chest to stop herself from reaching out to him again. “Anytime. I’m always here, Gilbert. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Now I do.” His eyes had glassed over, looking much like they had last night, and she worried he would tear up again. But he simply gave her a lingering gaze, before slowly drifting off in the direction of the stairs, keeping his eyes on her until he was completely out of sight. She knew she didn’t have the courage to poke her head out into the hallway and see if he was still looking back at her, so she quickly shut the apartment door, leaning her back against it and knocking the back of her head as she faced the ceiling with her eyes squeezed shut.

Well, there was no denying it anymore.

She most certainly had feelings for Gilbert Blythe.

Sure, they were definitely romantic feelings, but Anne knew there was no possible future where this would go any further than some fleeting interest. The thought saddened her and made her think forward to the future. It was only a matter of time before she finished her book, and she didn’t have an excuse to hang out with Gilbert as often.

When she finally finished, would he leave? He had no real reason to stick around. He was a busy medical student, and she would, hopefully, become a busy author. Besides, there was no denying that he was an entire league above her. No matter how much affection he showed her, it would pass. It was practically par for the course when you become so close with someone in such a short amount of time, for you to become openly affectionate. That’s what she told herself.

Though, all these thoughts couldn’t stomp out the tingling she felt in her lips, as she was unconsciously brought back to their ‘research’ kiss. Her muscle memory had completely memorised the feeling of his lips being pressed delicately to hers, and yet she couldn’t get enough of the feeling in her head. Her imagination had always served her so well, so why now did it seem to fall short?

She wondered if all kisses felt like that.

With a sigh of resignation, she moved to grab her phone from the table, checking the notification from her morning wake up call.

_**(Barry’s Books Publishing)** : Good morning, Ms. Shirley Cuthbert. We attempted to call you this morning but were sent to voicemail. We understand you are likely very busy at the moment with your final draft of the novel, so we won’t take up too much of your time. _

_Our schedule has recently been changed slightly, due to an unforeseen loss of one of our projected novels for release next year. This means that we must ask to bring forward the deadline for your fantasy novel, “The Tragical Musings of Princess Cordelia”, to the 7th November, in order to meet our newly enforced timeline for the rest of the quarter. We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause you, and we look forward to meeting with you again in two weeks-time to finalise your work._

_BB Inc._

No.

No, no, no, no, no…

This could not be happening.

She had a month! She was supposed to have a month to finish the book, but now –

_Two weeks?!_

Anne brought the phone up to her forehead and groaned out loud, wanting to crawl up into the cozy sleeping position she had been in only twenty minutes ago, when she had no idea that any of this was happening.

Before she could allow herself to panic any further, she took a deep breath and marched back into her bedroom, grabbing her notebook and laptop, bringing it back into the living area and sitting back against the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table with no care for the lack of hygiene.

She would _not_ let this set her back. She would _not_ lose course. She was getting somewhere. She just had to get there much quicker. Meaning she would have to use as much of her source material as possible.

Recalling what Diana had spoken to her about yesterday, she set about planning and writing her next plot – one that was sure to give her love interest for character. She would invest everything she had into his backstory, and make sure that the audience understood the depth of everything he was feeling, just as she now did.

If she was going to use this, she would need to be sensitive. But she didn’t have the time to plan it out much in that moment. She promised, for his sake, that she would return to this section once she had finished the novel, and make sure she hadn’t pushed a nerve.

So, the rest of the day was spent unmoving in the centre of her cushions, allowing the comforting memory of the morning that had just passed to calm her down and spur her forward.

She moved only once – grabbing the pillow he had rested his head on and placing it into her lap, balancing her notebook on top. She pressed it as close to her as she possibly could and managed to convince herself that the aroma drifting from the cushion was really him.

He was gone, but he was still there. He sat with her all day, as she wrote furiously. 

* * *

_She folded her hands in front of her, respectfully keeping her distance while he stood a few meters in front of her. She thought to herself that she had never seen him looking so somber in the short time she had known him. She could just make out his words in the distance between them._

_“Hello father.” Gilbert murmured. His hands were folded behind his back, with his arms tensed as he stood stock still in front of the gravestone. “I know it’s been a long time since I last spoke with you. I haven’t…I haven’t found the strength to see you since you were taken away from us._

_“I thought I should introduce you to someone. She’s standing behind me right now – she’s the beautiful girl with the red braids. I doubt that you could miss her.” He smiled wryly despite himself, and Cordelia blushed. Thankfully, he couldn’t see her bashfulness from his spot in front of her. “You would love her. She would have reminded you of mother, I think. You always said that she was the most spirited woman you had ever met – that she kept you on your toes. She made you feel alive, and I never understood what you meant by that._

_“But I think I know what you were talking about now. Alice, she…she makes me feel like I’m not just **existing** here. I feel like I’m truly **living**. Bash and Mary and Dellie are wonderful, of course. They are my family just as much as you are, but sometimes, I can’t help but feel like I’m still on the outside. I suppose that blood runs thicker than water, and deep down, I often wonder if they will always be more of a family to each other than I will.” _

_She could hear the emotion getting caught in his throat and could hold herself back from walking forward to join him no longer, still leaving the smallest distance between them, to give him some space. Reaching to his clasped hands and disconnecting them, she took his right hand in hers to interlock their fingers. He made no move to turn and face her, but the shuddered sigh that he released – relaxing the tension in the back of his shoulders – showed his appreciation for her comforting touch. She felt him squeeze her hand in return as he continued talking to his father._

_“Alice has helped to remind me that I’m still a part of a real family, and that I can make my own family. That, even if some days are hard – and I still have some **terrible** days, father – it’s the family you make yourself that will help pick you up on those days, and who make the good days, worth it. _

_“She also reminded me how important it is to not push way the pain from the past. When I told her about you, she helped me to realise how much I had been trying to run from. So, I am finished with this foolishness. I missed speaking with you, and even if it hurts like this every time I do so, I will come back and speak to you every single day. I know that it’s what you would have wanted.” He sniffled, whimpering as he came to the end of his sentence. “I miss you. I love you. And I’m just **tired**.” _

_She knew he was done without a word of confirmation and wrapped her other arm around the one she already held onto, clinging to him as tears slipped from her own eyes. His choked sob broke the few moments they spent in their sidelong embrace, as he turned to pull her into a bone-crushing hug._

_“Thank you. I love you.” He whimpered into her shoulder, that was growing slowly wetter by the second. It was the first time he had uttered those words, but Cordelia was not shocked at his confession._

_While she comforted him – putting every ounce of strength she could into her arms that now wrapped around his shoulders – she allowed herself to cry. But guilt overcame her, her tears a mixture of empathy for her dearest companion, and the growing knowledge that she would inevitably let him down. He needed her – he **loved** her. _

_She loved him too. She knew she did._

_But could that truly change their fate?_

_She asked herself once more whether she could ever fathom having to leave him behind - never seeing his face again and being sold into the first marriage her parents could sign onto. And once more, she found herself unable to picture the rest of her life without Gilbert Blythe. He was meant to be a permanent fixture in her life._

_If that meant she would continue on in denial, hoping and praying that the inevitable day would never come, in order to be there for him, then so be it._

_“I love you too.” She whispered, pressing a thorough kiss to the side of his head, and embracing him even tighter than before._

_They stood there for much longer after that: Gilbert, with his conscience free and his heart full; and Cordelia, ignoring every intrusive warning that something terrible was soon to happen, and focusing on the steady thumping of her lover’s heartbeat in time to the rhythm of her own._

_She would never let them take her away from him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Gilbyyy :(
> 
> On a brighter note, we've also had some developments (yay), so the story is on its way to the end now. I've added a 12 chapter for an epilogue, based on some suggestions I saw in the comments and a little bout of inspiration I had last night! I've written every chapter but the epilogue, so things are nearly done and I'm a little sad :( but still plenty of chapters left to post!
> 
> NOTE: this chapter is VERY important, and will come back later in the plot...
> 
> If you want to, I would love to see your theories below as to what's going to happen next! I love love love reading all your amazing ideas and lovely comments xx
> 
> Until next week, sending all my love and PLEASE stay safe! <3


	9. The Halloween Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Halloween party is finally here - Anne struggles with her newfound feelings, but Gilbert is there to cheer her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the party we've all been waiting for is here! let me know if you notice my cheeky little reference to my first story hehehe x
> 
> enjoy ;)
> 
> (also I don't mention it in the story, but I felt the need to say that Tillie is definitely dressed as Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction, because WOW Glenna would kill that look)

“Anne, will you stop worrying? It’s going to be fine. Besides, that’s not what tonight is about.” Gilbert assured her, grabbing her shoulder to take her attention away from her phone, which she hadn’t been able to stop scanning for messages. How was she meant to relax when the publishers could be texting her right now to change the deadline of the novel to the next day? At this point, she wasn’t going to rule it out – she had been blind-sighted once before, who was to say they wouldn’t switch up on her again?

Of course, she didn’t blame them. Schedules were all subject to change and she knew that. But that hadn’t made her situation in the last week any easier. Despite putting every ounce of time and effort into the book that she could, she still wasn’t quite finished – and now, on Saturday night, she had less than a week to finalise the last two chapters. Needless to say, her mind was preoccupied.

“Anne! Earth to Anne!” He spoke louder on his second attempt to catch her attention. She whipped her head up from her brightly lit screen, adjusting to the much darker setting around her, as she and Gilbert wandered down the street, towards Josie’s address. He was looking down at her, mid-walk, with an amused but concerned expression on his face. “Come on, you’re the one who wanted us to have a good time tonight, remember?”

She did remember. How could she forget? While the most prevalent thoughts in her mind that week had been surrounding the new deadline, the rest of her mind had been preoccupied with preparing for tonight. Most pointedly, the certain prospect of seeing Gilbert again, after having her personal revelation about her feelings for him the other night.

How was one meant to act to draw suspicion away from something that seemed so obvious to her now? Every little thing she had done or said since he had met her at the bus stop that afternoon had been a problem for her to overanalyse in her head – surely, he couldn’t feel her holding her breath when he had given her a hug as a greeting, for the first time since they had met?

“You’re right. Sorry, it’s just hard for me to get my mind off of it – even for one night.” She sighed, smoothing out the skirt of her dress and popping her phone back into her basket – a makeshift bag for the evening – to stop it from distracting her.

She had to admit, she was quietly proud of herself for the amount of effort she had put into her costume. She had always prided herself on going all out for costumed events, since she didn’t get to experience such activities for more than half of her life, and tonight was so exception. Up until Diana had been made unavailable by her unreliable waitressing schedule, the two of them had been planning to go to the party as Daphne and Velma from _Scooby Doo_ (their hair colours being the obvious reasoning behind why that pairing had won out in the end), but thankfully, Anne hadn’t purchased any of the items for her costume yet, and there was no way she would be going as Daphne on her own.

So, instead, she had taken a last-minute trip to the costume shop, and miraculously found a costume from another one of her redheaded sisters – Judy Garland. Or, better put, Dorothy, from _The Wizard of Oz_. With the puffed sleeves, gingham pinafore and ribbons to match, she had salvaged together a pair of old chorus shoes and did a quick paint job, turning them into a beautiful, bright red colour. After finding a basket, tying her hair into the signature, plaited pigtails and finding some old, white, frilly socks to match the outfit, she had a complete ensemble that she could be proud of.

Gilbert, on the other hand, made good on his promise to somehow find a loophole in the costumed theme, using the easiest one he could find, that took little to no effort. When he had let go of her from the hug, she had looked down at his outfit in question. He had his usual brown bag by his side, but wore a simple white button up, with a tie, black jeans, and three black circles on the side of his chest. Upon her questioning look, he had reeled back in shock, as if he were offended that she hadn’t recognised his character yet.

“I’m Jim!” He exclaimed. “You know? ‘Three-hole-punch’ Jim? Anne, if you actually haven’t watched _The Office_ , I need to seriously rethink this whole ‘friendship’ thing.”

Her groan did very little to hide her laughter.

Back in the moment, she looked back towards him as he paced down the footpath beside her.

Well, he may not have put too much effort in, but he somehow still managed to look like he galloped right out of the pages of a novel. A novel about an office, but still.

“Look, I get it. It’s stressful. But you’ve already done so much in the last few days alone. I can’t believe the amount of times, just this week, that I’ve gotten a goodnight text from you at four in the morning.”

She raised her eyebrows incredulously. “You were the one who asked me to check in with you every night!”

“Yeah, to make sure you were getting enough sleep!” He guffawed. “Telling me you went to sleep at four in the morning every night did nothing to reassure me, Anne!”

She hoped she had successfully hidden her flush, from his adorable concern for her, by fiddling one of the ribbons in her hair as a distraction. “Well, I’m here now, so clearly I’m not too bad, right?”

“Hey, if you pass out at nine, don’t say that I never warned you!”

“I think the great ‘Doctor Blythe’ is coming out in full force tonight.” She giggled.

“Maybe. But I think that your muse should have a bit more say in your health – especially when your lack of sleep is partially because of him. If you think about it, anyway…”

She softened up at the flash of guilt in his eyes, as he stared down at the pavement below him, waiting for a response from her. It hurt her to think that he could ever blame himself for her not taking care of herself – if anything it was her fault. She should’ve just lied and sent him a message at a normal hour, before writing into the early hours of the morning anyway. Unsurprisingly, she had come to realise she found it very difficult to lie to Gilbert about anything.

Well, almost anything.

“Gilbert.” She caught his attention back. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you worry. I promise that I’ll try and go to bed at a reasonable hour this weak.”

The little smirk slowly grew onto his lips, before he stopped in the middle of the path – not far off from their destination, judging from the muffled sound of _Groove is in the Heart_ coming from the large house by the end of the street – making her come to a halt as well. He put one of his hands in between them, sticking out his pinkie finger with a goofy look on his face.

“You swear?” He grinned.

“Really? Isn’t this a little babyish, Gil?” She bit her lip.

“It’s the only sure way that I’m not going to worry about you!” He ensured, wide-eyed and mischievous, before he softened slightly. “Well, I’ll definitely still worry about you, but it’ll make me feel a bit better anyway.”

Shuddering, and hoping he could blame it on the slight chill in the air, she slowly brought up her own finger to link around his. Waiting a moment, they squeezed them tight and shook them, with amused smiles.

“I _swear_.” She mocked, far too aware of the hushed tone her voice had taken, and the lack of distance between their faces.

He smiled victoriously, unhooking his finger, and making Anne remind herself of where she was. He ruffled up his hair slightly at a sudden gust of wind, before slowly gestured towards the house. “Let’s follow that yellow brick road, huh?”

She barely registered what he was saying.

His hair looked even better than usual now.

This was going to be much harder than she had anticipated. 

* * *

“Anne! You made it!” Josie squealed, reaching her arms out to bring her into an excited embrace, shaking her from side to side. The pair had hardly entered the house before they caught sight of the hostess mid conversation, situated at the end of the narrow hallway from the front door. From the small insight they had of the party so far, things seemed to be buzzing already.

Anne merely laughed in response, choosing to just go along with the blonde’s, clearly tipsy, antics. “Hey Josie! Thanks again for having us.”

She released her, making sure not to spill the contents of her cup onto either of their costumes in their movement. “Oh, stop it! You’re practically part of the group already – there was no way you weren’t coming.”

As she took another sip of her drink, Anne took a moment to survey her costume. No matter how cliché Cher Horowitz was for a choice of Halloween costume, she didn’t think she had seen someone pull it off quite so well as Josie was. The yellow plaid ensemble bared a striking resemblance to the original version, but she supposed she had more money to spare on some fancy ‘fits.

Remembering Gilbert’s presence behind her, mainly from the subtle feeling of his arm pressed against the back of shoulder, she gasped. “Oh! I forgot to introduce you – this is my friend, Gilbert.” She gestured back to him, as he smiled somewhat awkwardly and raised a hand in greeting.

Josie merely smirked cheekily, glancing at him pointedly. “I remember you. You were the one we couldn’t pull Anne away from at Moody’s gig the other week. Correct?”

His mouth hung open in a stuttered attempt at a reply, while Anne tried to will away her flushed demeanour and ensure that Gilbert did not see it. The blonde threw her head back with laughter at their shocked silence.

“Don’t worry.” She composed herself again. “I’m sure we won’t have any problems – any guy who unashamedly dances in public already earns a few points.”

Losing a bit of the tension from earlier, he shook his head with laughter at the memory of his newfound dancing ‘skills’, and Anne found herself reminiscing on the night fondly while she didn’t need to speak.

“I don’t know if I’ll be up to it tonight, but hey – who’s to say?” He joked.

“Well, we’ll see how many drinks it takes. For both of you.” She pointed between them, with a teasingly scrutinous look, before turning at the sound of her name being called from the living room. It seemed that one of the boys was already on the verge of breaking something valuable by the mantle, and she immediately alerted. “Oh, god. I knew inviting the Paul’s was a mistake.” Turning back to them briefly, she apologised. “I better go sort this out. Feel free to go grab some drinks in the kitchen – everyone is a little spread out, so go mingle! I think Ruby was asking for you anyway.”

And with that, the swishing yellow skirt disappeared into the smatterings of colourful, costumed guests. Moments later, as they manoeuvred their way through to the kitchen, they managed to stifle their laughter at the sound of a very disgruntled Josie smacking one of ‘The Paul’s’ on the head.

“Jane, I promise I won’t make you dance with me for anything else tonight – but we have to! It’s _Paper Planes_ for crying out loud -“ Ruby begged from the counter, to a clearly reluctant, and comparatively sober, Jane, before she caught sight of the redhead and her companion wandering into the kitchen. “ _Anne_!”

At the sight of the petite girl running over to embrace her new friend, Jane breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank god you’re here – she’s all yours. I’ve needed to pee for the last twenty minutes, but little Miss. Lightweight here is a handful.” She deadpanned, before dashing around the corner to, what Anne assumed was, the bathroom.

Ruby, decked out with angel wings and a white dress to match, eventually pulled away from her fierce hold, taking Anne by the shoulders. “I love your costume so much! You should have told me – I could have been your Toto!”

Anne cackled at her friends drunken rambling. “I don’t know if you would have fit into my basket, Rubes.”

Before she could respond, her eyes floated to the man beside her, recognition filling her eyes as she put two and two together between the pair. “Oh, you must be Gilbert! Anne told me all about you!”

Anne could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of her head, despite her refusing to look away from Ruby. “Only good things, I hope?” He chuckled.

“Don’t worry, she never as anything bad to say about you!” She giggled, ignoring Anne’s warning look. “She’s lucky to have snapped you up so quickly! You guys are so cute! But how come you didn’t do a couples costume?”

She prayed to God that she would get drunk enough to forget all of this by tomorrow morning. It seemed that all of her friends were on a mission to expose her as soon as possible – and judging from the ensuing silence, things were just as awkward on Gilbert’s end.

“Uh…”

“We’re not-“

“…together. Like that.” Gilbert finished off for her, after they finally meandered through their flustered muttering to get the point across, neither willing to look each other in the eyes.

Anne thought that perhaps it was a good thing she knew she had feelings for him. At least now she could acknowledge the fact that his quick denial of their ‘relationship’ had deflated her party attitude significantly. Even if she had tried to say the same thing. She had just hoped that he might not have had the strength to say it, like she didn’t.

At that moment, with the most impeccable timing, Cole, fit with a pink lightning bolt painted across one side of his face in the style of Bowie, came careening inside from the backyard, bottle of vodka in hand, not inebriated enough to miss Anne in her little cluster by the kitchen. “Anne’s here! My new favourite person!”

Coming over to pull her into yet another drunken hug, she heard Gilbert murmur teasingly behind her, “Since when were you were so popular?”

Interrupting her from replying, Cole pulled back, offering out the bottle to the three of them. “I don’t how long you’ve been here, but you are way too sober for Halloween. You need cups for a mix?”

Before she could respond and find their own cups, the awkward moment from earlier came back to her.

_We’re not together. Like that._

“Nope. Like this is fine.” She muttered, earning a shocked but impressed look from Cole, who handed her the bottle cautiously. Ruby’s mouth popped open in surprise as she stood by, looking unsure whether she was being serious or not.

“Steady as she goes, Dorothy.” Cole jeered.

Before Gilbert could interject, she threw her head back and took a long swig, the liquid sliding down and burning the inside of her throat. While her body cried out in protest, she swallowed down the liquor, along with her disgust, and brought the bottle back down. Hiding her grimace, she turned to Gilbert to offer him a drink.

His mouth hung open, with his eyes darting over her. He was clearly concerned, his eyebrows raised in question. When he made no move to take the glass bottle from her grasp, she sighed.

“Do you want a cup?” She questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, but, I just – well, I don’t…are you alright?” He stammered. She couldn’t handle the concern in that moment, nor the kickstart it gave to her heartbeat.

“You said tonight was meant to be a distraction, right?” Still partially stuck in his stupor, he nodded slowly, looking like he barely comprehended what she was saying. She stuck her arm out straighter to bring the bottle up closer. “ _Distract me_.”

The challenge in her tone might have been the thing to push him over the line. But from his softened gaze, and the resigned smile he gave her, she had a feeling he was trying to say _You know I can’t say no to you._ With a deep breath, he took the vodka from her fingers and took a brief swig, hardly taking his eyes off of her the whole time.

She distantly heard Cole whooping for the both of them. It was hard to tell though – she could hardly engage any of her other senses as she helplessly watched Gilbert lick the excess liquid from his lips. 

* * *

Her phone hadn’t buzzed with any text messages – she knew that, rationally, she should stop checking it every few minutes. But there was little she could do to stop her intoxicated brain from drifting back to the object of her frustrations throughout the night. Stuffing her hand back into the basket, she grasped it beneath her other, less valuable belongings, and pulled it out – only to be faced with a blank lock screen.

 _11:13_. The brightness of the time at the top of the image only served to remind her that she was exactly forty-seven minutes away from a new day – one where she was yet another day closer to that taunting deadline. It seemed that even drunk Anne was not immune to this level of stress.

She came back to consciousness at the feeling of a chin coming to rest in the crook of her shoulder and turned to face the presence beside her. Unsurprisingly, Gilbert had immediately noticed her disappearance from their spot at the table with Cole and Tillie (who were still distracted by their hilarious, drunken attempts to make a successful tequila sunrise) and had wandered over to the emptied kitchen to find her pressed to the counter.

As she turned to face him, he thankfully pulled out from his spot right next to her head – she didn’t think she could have stopped herself from kissing him if he had decided to stay there any longer. She knew he was just as drunk as she was; enough to feel comfortable under the flashing lights in the crowd of kooky characters, but still sober enough to stand up straight and speak coherently. That particular detail made it even harder for her to ignore his close proximity, even after he had already lifted from atop her shoulder.

“Anne…” He whined, popping his empty cup down onto the counter, and leaning down onto his elbows so that she had to lower her gaze to watch him. “You’re stressing yourself out again.”

She sighed, still not putting it way just yet. “I know.”

“Turn it off for a while.” He chirped. “It might help.”

Choosing not to reply, she tried to lessen the tension in her shoulders and held down the power button, sliding her phone off and putting it back into the basket on the marble countertop. Though she’d put it way – for good this time, she hoped – she didn’t feel the relief of relaxation just yet. Trying to take her mind off of it, she put her hands down on the edge of the cool surface, putting her head down and closing her eyes. God, she felt like such a buzzkill – this was meant to be a party, and she had promised herself and Gilbert that she was going to enjoy herself. She had been, at least up until she let her mind start to wander away from the stench of alcohol and sweat, and the sound of Gilbert’s carefree laugh as he started to loosen up more under the influence. Instead, she had drifted off and started to focus on the terrifying prospect that, even after all of this hard work and energy, she was still going to be a _failure_.

 _“Yeah, there was a funky singer…_ ” She came to, turning her head to find Gilbert had disappeared from her side, and had instead moved into the centre of the kitchen. To her shock, the Gilbert she had literally dragged onto the dance-floor only a few weeks ago, now grooved around the space on his own, making sure he aimed all of his moves in her direction – pointing, shimmying, and doing the most ridiculous dance moves she had ever seen.

 _“Playin’ in a rock and roll band…”_ His movement was made all the funnier by how slow he was going, with an expression on his face that made her realise that he was trying to make her laugh.

He didn’t have to try very hard. She was already holding back her laughter behind her hand.

“What are you doing?” She grinned, fake exasperation in her tone, despite the fact that she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Returning the favour.” He pointed out over the stereo, still very loud from where they were situated, despite nobody really being around. When she raised her eyebrow in confusion, he came closer to her, never ceasing in his little dances as he approached her.

“Somebody told me something once that totally changed my life.” He drawled with a tipsy slur to the end of the sentence.

She smirked softly, strangely comfortable with his face this close to her. “What’s that?”

“They said ‘It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you, as long as you’re happy’.”

She knew the answer to her question before she asked it, but part of her wanted to hear him say it. “Who told you that?”

“You.” He grinned, a haziness in his eyes that she could attribute to the tipsiness. She gulped down a dreamy sigh at the way he was bent over before her, so that his face sat just below hers. It was all much too inviting.

He held out his hand for her to take, easing back slightly to beckon her back with him to their makeshift dance spotlight. Mouthing along to the song in a way that was all too familiar, he seemed to glow with his newfound confidence. _“Yeah they were dancin’, and singin’, and movin’ to the groovin’…_ ”

The song was so insanely _stupid_ that she couldn’t stop herself from singing long when he left the next line open for her, rolling her eyes and taking his offered hand. _“And just when it hit me somebody turned around and shouted…”_

 _“Play that funky music, white boy!”_ They shouted in unison, right into each other’s faces; ear-splitting grins overtook them as they laughed through the chorus. Anne found herself finally relaxing, spinning round and round the empty kitchen and bopping along, her stress momentarily forgotten. Before she knew it, Gilbert had grabbed both of her hands again, copying the movement she had pulled them into back at the bar all those weeks ago, going back and forth through her fits of giggles.

Taking one hand, he boldly spun her round, her gingham dress splaying out freely around her in a move that left her dizzy. Falling back towards him, she calmed herself down enough to just enjoy the feeling of his hand in hers, with her arms both pressed up against his chest in an effort to balance.

Grinning down towards her, he spoke up, interrupting their lyrical butchering of the _Wild Cherry_ song.

“You asked me something then as well. You remember?”

She shook her head, not trusting herself to not ruin the atmosphere.

“You asked me if I was happy. Are you happy, Anne?”

Yes. God, yes. She wasn’t sure if she could remember the last time that she had been this content.

“Yeah. I am.” She replied slowly, soaking in his reaction as they swayed slightly, and the song began to taper off slowly.

“Good.” He spoke softly, hardly audible. “Me too.” The grip of his hand in hers suddenly tightened, never losing the comforting feeling it had before.

If his words were inaudible, her gasp could have only been a touch louder. Still, it was loud enough for him to hear, guessing from the way he seemed to stop breathing beneath her touch.

Before she could respond – thankfully, since she had absolutely no clue what she could say to move past that – the next song began on the playlist, one that she immediately recognised. As _Summer of ‘69_ started playing, she heard the distant squealing of a group of girls, as it got rapidly closer to the kitchen. Pulling away from him abruptly and smoothing her skirt down out of reflex, she just managed to pull herself together as the group came peeling towards her. Over the excited shouts of Tillie, Cole and Jane, and the indistinct noises of Ruby, she turned to Gilbert, who had suddenly gone shy again. Refusing to leave him in any such state, she quickly grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

Giving him a pointed look as he turned to her in surprise, she beckoned with her head towards where the girls had started migrating to, on the real dance-floor in the backyard. Not waiting for a response more than his reserved smile, she grabbed her basket and started blindly singing along as she pulled him over to their friends – resolutely moving on from the short moment they had shared in the kitchen.

Or trying to at least. 

* * *

The playlist had gone through many songs since they had first joined the group of party guests enjoying themselves on the dance-floor of the back garden. Phone long forgotten, and multiple shots consumed, Anne had her arms up to the night sky as she spun around with her dearest new friends by the fire-pit, thrilling in the feeling of the embers rising in circles around her. Even Gilbert had kept up his energy, finding Moody in a crowd of other boys who joined him in their ridiculous dancing, much to everyone’s delight.

As _All The Small Things_ finally started wrapping up, she saw that Gilbert had shifted over to dance closer to her again, after spending a little time over with Moody, and had joined her in her ‘jump’ dancing.

“Who knew the ‘good doctor’ could be just as stupid as the rest of us?” She jeered playfully over the music, earning a mockingly shocked face from the man himself.

“I’ll have you know I can be stupid, when I want to be!” He insisted, slowing down to catch his breath.

“Oh, I know. Believe me.” She smirked, just milking the reactions she was getting out of him from her teasing.

“ _Anne Shirley-Cuthbert_!” He put a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. “Do you insult all of your muses like this?”

“No, just you.” She laughed, poking him where his hand splayed out on his chest.

He huffed indignantly, unsuccessfully trying not to smile. “Well, I’m going to take that as a compliment and assume that means I’m your favourite.”

Scrunching her nose and rolling her eyes, she hoped that her lack of refusal spoke for itself.

“Gil!” Moody stumbled over, clearly much more drunk than the both of them had been all night. He put an arm around his friend, eliciting laughter from him in response. “Dude, I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but I _love_ it!” He turned to Anne in his glee. “This guy hasn’t danced a day in his life till right now – I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do something this crazy!”

By the end of his rant, she couldn’t stop the laughs from spilling over, as she held her stomach from the sheer force of it. She wiped a tear from her eye as Gilbert looked between the two of them in disbelief.

“I’m not that boring. Am I?” He asked nobody in particular.

“No…” Anne started.

“Mmm, kind of.” Moody interjected lazily, slumping off to the side to lean against the wall of the house.

Looking like he was deep in thought, Gilbert stared off in his direction for a moment. Before she could ask if he was alright, he walked over to his friend, taking his almost empty cup from him with little effort – she doubted that Moody would be drinking anything for a long time after tonight. Smelling whatever concoction was in there, and deeming it decent, he downed the remaining liquid in the cup. She would be concerned, if it weren’t for the fact that he didn't seem to recoil from the taste of the strong alcohol in his cup, instead just swallowing it down without so much as a wince.

In a completely shocking turn of events, leaving Anne a flustered mess, he then proceeded to untuck his shirt from his jeans and quickly unbutton it, throwing it onto the table in the corner, before tossing off his shoes and making a beeline for the huge pool at the back of the garden.

Anne was sure that the quick image she had of shirtless Gilbert would be forever burned into her brain. God, could he just have one fault? It would make her life so much easier if he did.

Now, some of the other male guests had talked about getting into the pool, but with midnight rapidly approaching, nobody had had the nerve to be the first person to jump in – especially because, no matter how unseasonably warm it was for the time of year, it was still late autumn, and leaving the party with wet costumes would not be as fun after the fact. But as the guests outside watched Gilbert run towards the pool in astonishment, various guys all whooped in response, encouraged by his lunacy to just do it.

On the other hand, Anne watched helplessly as Gilbert bombed straight into the deep end of the swimming pool, somehow laughing in her shocked state. She supposed she could never pull the _reserved_ card on him after this.

As he came back up for air and flicked his soaking wet hair out of his face, Gilbert’s gaze found hers again, with an unspoken challenge in his quirked eyebrow and twinkling eye. Part of her wanted to join him so badly. Nothing would top off an already perfect night better than just jumping in the water and going for it.

Whatever that entailed.

But none of her other friends looked like they were going to do the same, with most of the girls claiming that they spent way too much money on their costumes to just ruin them, and then be freezing on the way home.

She wasn’t that stupid, was she?

She glanced back at Gilbert, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the whole time.

Yes, it turns out – she absolutely was. At least, when it came to Gilbert.

Thank god she was wearing bike shorts.

Making sure her basket was still in the safe hands of Cole by the table, she took off her red chorus shoes and made a mad dash for the pool before she could think better of it, letting out an excited squeal as she jumped into the air. She held down her skirt as much as she could as she plunged into the chilling water, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath to soak in her weightless state.

Moments later, she came back up to shake herself free of the water around her eyes, laughing in disbelief at her own actions. Gilbert quickly swam over to her – practically walked, even in the deep end – with a vibrant smile on his face.

She saw a couple of guys hop into the pool from the other end, half of their costumes discarded, and their drinks abandoned. In her distraction, she failed to notice Gilbert sweeping an arm out, creating a tidal wave in her direction that splashed her completely. Shrieking embarrassingly loudly, she covered her face with her hands as well as she could, failing to keep her mouth closed as she wheezed with laughter.

She gaped at him, as he erupted in laughter, before she took on the challenge he had set. Swinging around as much as she could, she splashed him right in his face while he had his eyes closed, taking him completely by surprise. Making noises of protest, he opened his eyes to meet her stance – and from there, it was officially on.

Seconds later, their end of the pool was a complete mess – wave after wave of water covering the both of them as they spluttered with chuckles and shouts, gradually moving closer to one another to get a better shot. Without realising it, they had gotten completely into each other’s space, and the rest of the party had continued about their business, eventually losing interest in the chaos of the duo taking over the pool.

Trying to get the upper hand in their battle, Anne decided to use dirty tactics. Lifting her arms up, she found the top of his head and tried to push him down below the water, as Gilbert squirmed and laughed, holding onto her arms to try and stop her. Just as he started to go under, he pushed her arms backwards, putting her off balance. To try and salvage her attempt to get her victory, she hooked her feet around his back underneath the water, pulling herself back towards him and, unintentionally, putting herself in a compromising position.

Somehow, she had found herself wrapping her legs around him completely, arms slipping from his head down to his neck in the complete mess of movement. This all left her, essentially, straddling him. Apparently out of instinct, Gilbert had wrapped his own arms around her waist to keep her there while the last of their laughter slowly dissipated. Losing the thrill of the game, Anne slowly started to find herself caught in his ever-shifting gaze.

Panting from the action of the last few minutes, they both took a moment to collect themselves. Anne was hyperaware of every single touch – her own nails grazing his hairline at the back of his neck, his fingers digging into her sides, the rise and fall of his chest causing it to graze gently against her own.

She couldn’t stop looking at his eyebrows – _God_ , they had always been so expressive. In the moment, they were raised halfway up his forehead. She wondered what they felt like when they looked like that…

Suddenly, she felt more drunk than she had all night.

“Can I touch your eyebrows?” She blurted out. Although she internally cursed herself, she couldn’t bring herself to take it back, leaving it hanging. He jolted a little beneath her at the odd request, and she felt panic in her veins as she thought he might refuse. “It’s for research…for the book.”

He relaxed a little then, somehow pulling her slightly closer again.

“Yeah…” He nodded, his voice hardly above a murmur.

With his permission, she unhooked her arms from his neck and brought her hands up to the sides of his head, just above his ears. Keeping her fingers in place, she carefully brought her thumbs into the centre of his forehead, planting them on the inside of his eyebrows. With a slightly heavier hand, she ran them along the arched shapes, and felt a sudden shudder as she came to the end.

Tearing her eyes away from his eyebrows, she only needed to lower herself the tiniest bit, settling on his eyes. But when she reached them, she sucked in a breath and tightened her locked feet. She had never seen him looking so intensely at her – or anything, for that matter – but the look he had as he stared up at her was…almost _hungry_.

All the feelings she had been forcing down the entire night, everything she had promised she didn’t want to say or do, was starting to come back up to the surface. To her relief, words were failing her, but that didn’t stop her mind from wandering back to the things she wanted to do. Or do again.

Her eyes darted down to his lips. It took her a second to forcibly drag them upwards.

“What would they do then?” He muttered darkly. How had she not noticed that he was even closer than before?

“Hm?” She hummed in the back of her throat in question, her lips parted slightly.

“In the story. What happens next?”

She almost stopped herself from saying it, because despite the truth of it, she wonders if it might be _too_ true.

“They would kiss again.” She managed to spit out eventually, shivering. But the pool felt warm to her now.

A sudden breath hit her lips, and she instinctively curled her fingers into his hair in response. He groaned at the move but didn’t drift away. No, he kept coming even closer, the tip of his nose barely making contact with hers.

“Who would kiss who this time?” He sounded tortured, almost, and his eyes had long since glazed over.

She tried to actually think about it, but when his nose finally pushed gently against hers, the wind was taken out of her again.

_“I…don’t know yet.”_

His lips are already on hers as she finishes her sentence, a slow desperation in his movement as he wraps his arms fully around her. She could do no more than gasp, then sigh into his mouth, and tug on his neck to get him closer, even though she knew it was impossible.

They don’t hurry. Just like before, it’s not what she had grown to expect other kisses to be like. It isn’t even like the first time. On this occasion, she knew what she was doing, or felt like she did. So, she moved – not much, because she feared that too much movement would wake him up from whatever spell they were both under. Just enough movement to tug between the two of them, each trying to give a bit more of themselves with every push and pull.

Now she understood why some books talked about electricity. She still wouldn’t call it that, but it was like a buzzing sensation started to overcome her from the press of his lips between hers, and she could no longer hear anything else above the muffled riff of _She’s So High_ playing in the distant background.

She wondered when she was going to wake up – if she ever had to.

A loud wretch answered that question for her, and brought them both back to their senses. They turned back to face the fire-pit, where Moody was vomiting into one of Josie’s mother’s potted plants. The rest of the party watched on in horror, while Ruby dashed over to rub his back affectionately, and Josie ran inside, shouting that she would go and grab a bucket. Turning back to each other, they both opened their mouths to speak, but it seemed that neither really knew what to say. In Gilbert’s dazed state, Anne thought he looked remarkably like he did the day they had first ‘kissed’. The thought brought a small smile to her face, out of her control. Shutting his mouth, Gilbert reflected the look back to her.

“Alright, party’s wrapping up.” Jane yelled from a few metres away. “Everyone, time to get out of the pool. That includes you, horn-dogs!” She jeered, pointing in their direction with a mischievous smirk on her face. Anne thought that she was certainly living up to her devil costume.

She stiffly removed herself from Gilbert, flushing madly at her friend’s comment, before he took her hand, walking towards the stairs at the other end of the pool.

“Come on, we better get going.” He sighed, with something like a chuckle hidden in there.

Upon getting out of the water, Anne _immediately_ remembered why she had been so hesitant to get in the water. She wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as she could, but she knew it would do nothing to quell the chill in her bones as she froze on the spot. Gilbert noticed her let go of his hand, and his eyes widened to see her shivering on the spot behind him, clad only in a soaking wet dress and bike shorts.

“You’re freezing.” He stated, worry seeping in. She tried to reassure him that she would be fine but could barely get out the words through her chattering. She supposed there was nothing better to take your mind off of an unexpected kiss (make out? She wasn’t sure what classified a make out just yet) than a good dosage of hypothermia.

Tutting and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he walked her down to the house, stopping at the outside table. With most of the guests inside now, the area was quiet enough for her to hear her heart beating wildly in her chest – from the cold? Maybe, but unlikely. Emerging from digging into his large brown bag, he pulled out an oversized denim jacket: well, it was oversized for her, but probably fit him like a glove.

Not waiting for her inevitable protests, he wrapped the jacket around her shoulders, holding her arms out one at a time to slide them into the sleeves. It wasn’t the warmest jacket in the world, but it at least covered from the chilling late-night breeze that rolled in.

“Better?” He asked hopefully, hands still holding her shoulders.

“Yeah.” She spoke, finally finding her voice again. “But what about you? You’ll be freezing too.”

He grinned, going back to his bag and pulling out one of his signature sweaters. She couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes as he held it up proudly, while she reached to grab her basket.

“I told you Dr. Blythe was going to come out tonight.” She muttered, smiling shyly up at him.

Slipping it over his head, he grabbed his bag, shirt and both of their shoes, before patting her shoulder and moving her inside with him.

“And you’ll be thanking me for it, Anne-girl.” 

* * *

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked again, for what felt like the millionth time since they had gotten an Uber back to the outside of her apartment.

“I’m fine, Gilbert. Really, I am.” She sighed, good-naturedly, before furrowing her brows. “What about you? Are you sure it’s okay for Bash to pick you up? I don’t want you just waiting down here at one in the morning.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets and wobbling back and forth. “He’s nearly here already. Believe me, he’ll be wanting to hear about all my ‘drunken exploits’. More teasing fuel, I guess.”

She hummed a forced laugh, and found herself staring at the floor, thoughts ablaze in her head. Was that what this was? One of his ‘drunken exploits’? One of _her_ ‘drunken exploits’?

“Hey…” She looked back up to see him scratching the back of his neck and looking at her fondly. “I’m really glad I came tonight. Thanks for thinking to invite me.”

_Oh._

“…Of course.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “…I had a really good time.”

He let out a long breath she didn’t realise he had been holding, and for a second, it looked like he was stepping forward, and she anticipated it. But a beeping car disrupted his thought process, and he turned to see Bash’s car parked at the end of the street.

“I…” He sighed with defeat. “…I should probably go.”

He seemed so sad, but she couldn’t bring herself to come down from her elation. She knew she would see him soon, when they weren’t still freezing and tipsy, and maybe then…maybe then they could finish this discussion properly.

“Gilbert?” She sounded so hopeful it was almost embarrassing.

“Yeah?” He sounded no different, and it gave her the courage she needed.

She stretched forward, holding one of his shoulders for support, and pressed a quick peck onto his cheek. Retreating from it before she lost her nerve, she grinned widely.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

Not waiting for a response, she zipped through the already unlocked front door, and only turned back momentarily when she reached the stairs. Through the glass window, she could see him watching her in delight and awe as she skipped up the stairs to her floor.

She let go of a long breath of her own when she reached her room, shutting the door and pressing her forehead against the wood.

She had a lot of writing to do. And somehow, she didn’t feel so worried anymore. 

* * *

_“She really said that to you?” Cordelia wheezed, doubling over to hold her stomach as Gilbert watched in amusement._

_“Yes, and I blame you, Alice – she never used to want to dance so much, until you insisted on teaching her!” He claimed, throwing his arms in the air as he swung his legs lazily over the wooden platform. Even though he pretended to sound annoyed, Cordelia knew from the obvious smile painted across his features that he wasn’t frustrated in earnest._

_Coming back to her senses and balancing herself so that she didn’t fall into the water, she raised an eyebrow and leaned over to him. “Oh please, I know you are just grateful to get the dance practice in…”_

_Her cheeky remark left him gawking, as he swiftly ducked to close the distance between them, leaving him inches from her lips with a devilish look. “I don’t think I recall you complaining about my dancing a few weeks ago, Carrots.”_

_Scoffing, she pressed a finger into his chest and pushed him backwards, gasping theatrically. “Gilbert Blythe! I thought you would have the good sense to never call me that horrendous nickname again!” To avoid any sudden temper flares, her companion took the opportunity to grab her wrist, pulling her shoulders into his chest and peppering her cheeks with tiny kisses. The pair erupted into giggles in their newfound embrace, nearly toppling over each other in the process._

_“You know I do it out of love, dear. Have I ever told you that red is my favourite shade in the world?” He remarked in between pecks, his hot breath tickling the skin of her cheekbones._

_“Yes, in fact, you have. Multiple times.” She curled her fingers into his vest from her spot between his arms. She needn’t worry about being affectionate from their secluded spot – the only building for miles was the Blythe-Lacroix homestead, just up the hill from where they sat at the jetty of the lake. “Though, I assure you, it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.” She snuck in cheekily._

_He pulled back abruptly, bringing his hand up to her cheeks as they sat nestled closely. With that adoring look on his face, he caressed the clusters of freckles under her eyes, and spoke softly. “Everything about you is my favourite thing in the world. I couldn’t possibly pick a favourite. But your hair certainly places highly.”_

_Heart fluttering, she met him halfway, kissing him gently in a way that said more than she ever could to his face. Hopefully, in a way that would make up for their eventual separation._

_Stop it. Stop thinking about it._

_Pulling back before she let her emotions run away with her, grabbing his hands from her waist and cheek, bringing them down to her lap. “It was certainly a marvellous idea of yours to come down to the lake. I’ve always wanted to come to one myself, so it’s so wonderful to…”_

_“Wait,” Gilbert interrupted, hand up in front of his chest, looking quite shocked. “You’ve never been to a lake before?”_

_“…No. Did I not mention that? My parents always forbid it.” She murmured, afraid to continue the conversation. There was only so much she could hide about her life without him getting suspicious, and as the days slowly drifted by, it had become much harder to keep such secrets._

_Contemplating her answer, he eventually stood up, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and removing his shoes. She watched on in confusion, but any questions she had disappeared when he hopped into the water in front of them. It didn’t appear to be very deep at all, with Gilbert able to stand up to his elbows. When she sat watching him for a few seconds, he slowly waded over to stand directly in front of her, hands out towards her._

_“Gilbert?” She questioned wordlessly, smiling in confusion. He did no more than offer his hands once more._

_“Come on. I’ll help you; I promise.” He resolved, twinkling eyes entrancing her to jump in after him._

_She had never gone swimming before, and that worry plagued her mind as she considered his offer. But as she had already observed, the water seemed fairly shallow – shallow enough for her to stand on her own._

_Besides, who was she not to oblige his humble request when he looked at her like that?_

_Thanking her lucky stars that she hadn’t worn a large skirt that day, she carefully dipped her ankles into the water, testing out the temperature for herself. When she deemed it acceptable, she stopped thinking so deeply and grasped onto his outstretched palms rapidly, sliding down into the water in front of him before he would see her indecently._

_Jolting from the new feeling of standing in the water – which reached up to her shoulders, in contrast to Gilbert’s height advantage – she let out a disbelieving laugh. Such a simple act, but something she had secretly yearned to do for years. He smiled down at her with pride, guiding her further way from the platform at a steady pace, ensuring that there were no sudden dips in the bank._

_Holding back her excitement, and unsuccessfully biting back her giddy smile, Cordelia clung tighter to his forearms. “Can we go under?”_

_He looked shocked that she had already asked such a thing – after all, she had only been in the water for a minute or two. “Are you sure?” He pressed._

_She nodded vigorously. “If you keep holding onto me, I’ll be okay. But I want to feel what being underwater is **truly** like.” _

_Coming closer to her, and nodding once for confirmation, he sucked in a deep breath (a motion for her to copy) before dipping them both under the surface of the lake. With her eyes shut tightly, Cordelia felt suspended in mid-air, with her loose waves floating around above her head. Strands came to tickle the front of her face, and her toes skirted the loose ground beneath her. Part of her thought she may start to float away, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she was brought back to herself from the feeling of strong hands clasping around her arms._

_When pockets of air started to escape her mouth, she began pulling Gilbert back up to the surface with her, gasping in the fresh air and feeling her tresses slicked back down her neck. His curls had settled down in wet clumps on his forehead, almost dangling to cover his eyes completely. She erupted into breathless laughter when she finally recovered from their underwater venture, and hardly noticed when Gilbert scooped up her body; one arm under her shoulders and around her back, and the other on the underside of her knees. As she came to, she wrapped her own arms around his neck and nestled into his side, pressing her nose to his collarbone._

_“Thank you.” She sighed. “I never thought I would get to do something like this.”_

_“Alice…”_

_The pang of guilt._

_He kept going. “…How can I help you?” His voice urged her to speak truthfully to him, and his mouth pressed close to her ear to ensure she heard every word that left his mouth._ _“What can I do?”_

_She gulped, unwilling to meet his gaze. “There is nothing to be done.”_

_He pulled way, forcing her to tilt upwards and look him in the eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”_

_“Gilbert…” She trembled at the sight of his concern. “…if there was something that could be done, I would tell you.”_

_“But there is something wrong, then?” He spoke slightly louder, but still held her close to his chest. She hesitated but realised that it was clear to him. She nodded meekly._

_“Can you not at least tell me? I know we could find a way to help you, I **know** we could.” He insisted, grip tightening. _

_She longed to have his hope. But he knew nothing of the truth, and he could never know. If she never told him, he could have deniability of ever being involved with the princess. If he knew, she knew deep within her heart that he would be without hope – just as she was._

_“I cannot tell you.” She whispered. “But I promise you, there is nothing you can do to help. I promise. I wish there was. Truly.”_

_The pain in his eyes was surely a reflection of her own. He seemed to her to be in great anguish, and she forced herself not to blurt everything out right then and there, in the hopes that he would realise none of this was worth his trouble. That he was better off without her._

_Selfishly, she longed that she would never have to see that._

_“Love, do you really want me to just sit by while I know something is hurting you?” He choked out._

_“Yes.” She begged, tightening her hold on his neck and pressing her forehead to his. With her eyes closed, she felt a tear run down her cheek at the sound of his tortured sigh._

_Moments later, when they had let their silence wash over them, she spoke up delicately. “Do you need to go back to the farm soon?”_

_“No.” There was no hesitation in response._

_“Can we stay here for a little bit longer?”_

_He nodded wordlessly, surging forward to capture her lips with his in a comforting embrace that she hoped would quell the looming feeling in her stomach._

_They could not continue this for much longer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop. they did that.
> 
> this is probably my favourite chapter that I've posted so far! hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I didn't want to not address all the hugely important protests going on at the moment. I'm in a position where I can't get out to protest, and I don't live in America, but I want to say how DISGUSTING I think the actions of police and people in power has been during this time. Trump is essentially trying to put the country under martial law, and is denying freedom of speech by not placing blame on police brutality as the cause of this violence. Peaceful protestors are not to blame, and as an ally, I want to send all my love and appreciation and respect to EVERYONE out on the streets making your voice heard. This is a time where we CANNOT stay silent, and if you can't get out and protest in person, please donate to any bail funds or black lives matter organisations - there are plenty being shared around now, so make your voice heard. 
> 
> until next week, stay safe, healthy, and speak up! Lots of love <3


	10. The Notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I am sorry in advance.

“Come on, pick up, pick up…”

She didn’t think she had stopped smiling all day. She doubted anybody could have wiped the smile off of her face for most of the last week.

Sure, she had been stressed about getting the final draft of the novel finished, but after Saturday night had passed, she found herself diligently getting chapter after chapter drafted in no time. Now, with only one more day until her meeting with the publishers, she was confident that _The Tragical Musings of Princess Cordelia_ was ready for the world.

As she stood by the counter, leaning down to face the camera of her laptop and drumming her fingers nervously against the edge of the cool tile, she wanted nothing more than for her dearest to finally answer the call she had been trying to make for the past few minutes. For some reason, Diana had yet to pick up any of her video calls – which frustrated her to no end, especially considering the amount she needed to talk to her about. Not exclusive to her proud achievement of finally finishing her monumental writing project. There was something else she really needed to speak to her about, something which was still of the upmost importance.

She hadn’t spoken to a single soul about what had happened on Saturday night. Despite the fact that multiple party guests had probably seen what had transpired in the pool, miraculously, nobody had broached the subject with her throughout the week. Maybe they had been cautious to contact her at all while she was in the final throws of her creative process, or maybe they knew better than to question her about what had happened. She hadn’t trusted her overloaded brain to be able to fully comprehend the unprecedented, drunken kiss between her and Gilbert – not until she had completely finished her work that week. But now that she was no longer occupied, her mind had done nothing but replay the moment over and over again, memorising the feeling of his lips on hers again.

Whatever she was feeling, she knew she needed to talk to Diana. There was still far too many ‘what if’ scenarios swirling around in her head for her to even consider taking action. Not that she had much time to think about what she would do; she was meeting Gilbert today, for what would be their last proper ‘research’ session. He had sent her only a few texts that week (many of which were simply ‘good morning :)’ and ‘good night!’ messages, which she hadn’t gotten the courage to reply to with more than a reaction), one pertaining only to double-checking whether they could meet one final time at the café, to see the final product of all her fruitful research.

The mere thought of seeing him in person sent her into a tizzy. _What was she even supposed to say? How was one meant to approach a situation like this? What even was the situation?_

“Anne! Hey girl, what’s up?”

She broke from her running thoughts to refocus on the real world, as Diana’s face finally appeared onscreen, wet hair and dressing gown-clad at her desk. The amused but curious grin on her face let Anne know that she was already onto whatever antics she had in mind for their discussion.

“Took you long enough!” She moaned humorously. “Blowing me off is _not_ a good look for my most kindred of spirits.”

“Oh, hush you. You know perfectly well that I was in the shower.” She rolled her eyes. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on and why you’re calling me so urgently? You finished the book, right?”

She giddily laughed, nodding with vigour. Diana immediately squealed and threw her arms up in the air, flopping backwards in her chair and spinning it around in her mini victory dance.

“Didn’t I always tell you? I _knew_ you would make it! Aren’t you glad I told Aunt Jo about your writing now? I can proudly say that I was the bright spark who kickstarted the career of the great ‘A.S Cuthbert’.”

“I can assure you we aren’t _quite_ there yet. But I appreciate your unwavering support, as always.” Giggled Anne, leaning her head onto the crooks of her elbows atop the countertop.

“Endlessly proud of you, as always.” Diana sobered into a fond smile, blowing a kiss directly into the camera, for Anne to catch within her hand, placing it back to her heart.

“Kindred spirits forever.” She breathed, pressing her own kiss to the camera.

“Alright, now what else is up?” She quickly moved on, raising an eyebrow. “I can see it on your face – somethings going on in that crazy little head of yours.”

Anne sighed dramatically. “As always, Diana, you know me far too well for my own good…”

“You love it.”

“Irrelevant. But, you’re right…something happened at the party, and I really need to talk to you about it.”

“As I expected.” She said nonchalantly. “Spill – right now.”

Calming herself down as she resurrected the feelings in her mind, she ran her fingernails into her scalp to occupy her hands. “So…please don’t say I told you so…”

“You know I will, but continue.” She knew exactly what was going on, and it was driving Anne insane, because she still struggled to get the words out.

“As I was _saying_ …Gilbert and I, sort of…we kissed.”

“You mean kissed _again?_ ” She inquired, leaning towards the screen with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Yes, Diana, kissed again. Are you happy now?”

“That depends – you guys are together now, right?” She asked hopefully.

And therein lay the catch. “Um…”

“Anne…” Her friend groaned on the other line, sending her a very pointed look. “You have talked about it, haven’t you?”

“Well, no – we haven’t seen each other since…”

“Anne!” Throwing her hands into the air and her face to the ceiling. “What is wrong with the two of you? Can’t you just get it over with? You obviously like him, so what’s the issue here, Anne?”

Letting out an almost guttural groan, she put her head back down onto her arms on the table, only looking back up so that Diana could hear her speak. “I don’t know, okay? I’m just worried! What if this has all been because of the book?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, how am I supposed to know that I haven’t just been projecting Gilbert in the book onto Gilbert in real life? What if he’s been doing the same thing? When we kissed, he _literally_ brought up the story right beforehand! What does that mean?”

“Ah…” She sighed in understanding, looking slightly less frustrated.

“I don’t want to rush into this, because there’s no way of knowing whether this is all _real_ until the book is finally done, and out of both of our heads.”

“I understand, Anne. It’s tricky to decipher your feelings – but you _have_ to talk to him. If you don’t get things out in the open, then things will only get more confusing. When are you seeing him next?”

“…This afternoon.”

“God. You guys really don’t make this any easier on yourselves.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Listen – promise me that you will _talk_ to him.”

Anne let her gaze flit across the counter to her phone, flashing up with the time. She had only a few hours before she would have to face the music. Could she even sort out her own feelings within that time, let alone gather up the courage to ask how he felt?

Biting her lip, she knew she had to promise her bosom friend, or she would _never_ hear the end of it.

“I promise.” 

* * *

Surprisingly, Grumpy Barista had been in a spritely mood that afternoon. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come – everything would change today, whether that be for better or worse.

“Large almond milk latte, right? For Anne with an E?” She questioned, slight smile on her face when she saw the familiar redheaded customer come up to counter. Anne had gaped a little in shock, before shaking herself and confirming her order.

“Uh, yeah. That’s the one.” She gave a tight-lipped, slightly awkward smile, unsure of how to respond to the girl when she was in such an oddly chipper mood.

“That friend of yours meeting you today?” She asked casually, eyes on the till as she processed her order, and Anne was grateful she wasn’t looking up to see her unbecoming flush.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is. He should be here soon, so I was just going to order for myself now in case.”

She didn’t know what to expect in response, but it certainly wasn’t the sly smirk she got given over the register. “You snagged him up quick – I never saw him here with anyone before you.”

Before she could formulate a coherent response and process what her double meaning was, she pushed the scanner forward. “That’s $7.50.”

That had been ten minutes ago, but it felt like so much longer.

What would she say? What would he say? She really needed to stop overthinking everything so much, but she hadn’t had a very successful time that morning trying to sort through her emotions enough to figure out her game plan. It looked like she would be winging it for the afternoon – at least until her counterpart broached the subject first.

At the thought, a hand jolted her body from its anxiety-ridden stillness, making her spin round in shock. She should have realised sooner – it was obviously the object of all of her confusion and worry. Who else would it be, knowing her luck?

Gilbert had the decency to seem embarrassed for scaring her, but still looked to be amused at the situation, as he made no move to put any more distance between the two of them beyond hovering his hand inches way from its spot on her shoulder. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he looked nervous too.

She was too distracted by his outfit to take enough notice of his teeth chewing his upper lip – _he was wearing the jacket he had given to her to wear on Saturday_.

“Sorry.” He apologised swiftly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That, uh,” She stuttered, tucking her loose hair out of her face, and breaking eye contact to regain some control, “that’s fine. My bad.”

“You nervous about tomorrow?” Concern filled his eyes, and he didn’t hesitate to take his place opposite her, their regular table making her feel nostalgic for a time not so long ago, when he annoyed the _hell_ out of her with that dreaded nickname.

“Yeah.” It was technically true – she _was_ nervous for tomorrow, but that wasn’t the real reason that she was so skittish. “But I’m excited, though.”

“I bet.” He grinned. “I gotta say, I did always know you could do it.”

Loosening up, she smirked. “You only met me a couple of months ago, Gil.”

“And that was _more_ than enough time to see how fantastic you are.” He spoke with such conviction, in such a casual setting no less, that she needed to get some space to breath and recuperate her thoughts. _God, why did he have to be so perfect? Maybe then this wouldn’t be so hard to say out loud_.

“My shout today.” She insisted, choosing to brush off the compliment after some gratified eye contact to show her appreciation. “No buts, you paid last time – and nearly every other time before that.”

“But aren’t we celebrating your authorial success? I think I should pay up this time, it’s no problem.” He went to stand up, but she put her hands on his shoulders to force him back into his seat.

“Nope. Not this time, Blythe. Besides, we are celebrating success, so why not let me feel like a powerful woman today? You can flick through the draft while I order, and then we can read some more together when I get back, okay?” She smiled, hoping to some higher power that he could read the look in her eyes that said _we still have to talk, but I just need a second._

Seemingly, he saw it, since his jaw slacked and he swallowed obviously, nodding and giving her a fond smile to send her off to the barista once more. He glanced down at the manuscript in front of him as she watched silently from a distance.

Shifting back to order, she went through what she knew to be facts – hopefully that could straighten out her logical part of her brain first.

Gilbert was her friend. He had somehow become one of her best friends in just over two months.

He wouldn’t deliberately hurt her. She had learnt that many weeks ago at the clearing, and he had proved that fact again many times after.

She liked him. Whether that was a product of her imagination and her novel rolled into one, she knew at least some of it _had_ to be real.

The last fact (one she knew Diana would agree with strongly): if she felt like this, she had to be honest. There was no use hiding something from her close friend – especially something that apparently seemed very obvious to everyone round them.

She smiled to herself. She was really going to go through with it.

Minutes later, she couldn’t help herself from sneaking a peak back at the table to try and catch a glimpse of that _entrancing_ head of curls. But what she saw made her stop dead in her tracks.

It would seem normal enough to an outsider – Gilbert sat stiffly at his side of the table, seemingly occupied with one particular page in the middle of the manuscript – and normally, she wouldn’t think anything of it. But his face was what gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. His eyes were stone cold, eyebrows pulled into a furrowed peak and his fingers clenching the sides of the page much tighter than was necessary. When he sucked in a long, loud breath through his nose, flaring the nostrils aggressively, he caught her eye.

She had never seen that look in his eyes before – some kind of mixture of rage and hurt. It felt like he had physically punched her in the gut, and she held herself upright rigidly to stop herself from keeling over from the sheer look her gave her. That was the definitive – that something was certainly amiss.

With one more nostril flare, and a loud huff, he suddenly grabbed his bag and stood up, striding out of the café onto the street outside. She could only watch in shock for a second, her coffee order and the recently Happy Barista long forgotten as she stood there. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she came back to her senses and ran out of the shop, quickly grabbing her notebook and bag as she followed him down the road.

“Gil!” She cried, hurt and confused and thoughts racing at a pace she had never experienced. “Gilbert! Gilbert, wait!”

She could see him just up ahead, and she soon caught up with him – her running speed managed to outdo his long legs in their brisk power walk. However, he still made no move to turn around and face her as she began to approach his back – his shoulders were raised up and his grip looked incredibly tight on the strap of his bag. What had she done wrong? _Did_ she even do something wrong?

“Gilbert, will you please look at me?”

Abruptly, just as she had gone to reach for one of his shoulders to make him acknowledge her, he stopped in the middle of the path – leaving Anne to bump clumsily into his frame, stumbling backwards to get her balance and regain her composure again. He rounded to finally face her, and she faulted again, forgetting just how cold the look in his eyes was. She could practically see his vision clouding over, an unfamiliar storm brewing that she had never thought he was capable of.

“…What’s going on Gilbert?” She pants out, forgetting how unfit she was and feeling her running catch up to her.

“Why would you do that?” He spoke much quieter than she had been expecting, but she thought she would have preferred him to yell at her. Still, he did nothing to aid her confusion.

“What are you talking about? Do what?” She questions again, taking a slight step towards him.

He blinked multiple times, opening his mouth to speak, but hesitating. She saw the pain flash through his expression for vividly. He spoke up, voice choked.

“I never said you could write about my dad.”

_Oh._

“…Oh.” It was all she could muster as the pieces started to come together. Still, her mind couldn’t quite comprehend what the problem was, half due to the pounding of every other thought going through her head at the same time. “…I’m sorry Gilbert. I didn’t realise…I didn’t mean for you to…”

He interrupted, stepping closer to her as his anger surged at her apparent inability to properly speak. “Anne, I told you that as a friend. I haven’t spoken to anybody else about what happened – I told you everything, and you decided that it was just some more of your _research_?” He questioned incredulously.

Thinking over it in her head, part of her knew why he was upset. But unfortunately, Anne’s more stubborn side, the one that was eternally proud of the book she had finally finished writing, still refused to believe that she had done something _so_ wrong. She still wanted to fix things, but she didn’t really understand what he was talking about.

But he wasn’t done. “I figured that it went without saying that that night wouldn’t be used in the book – I didn’t want you to go all ‘Anne’ on me with something like that.” She could tell that he was barely registering the harsh words coming out of his mouth, but he seemed to be panting as much as her, but with complete frustration.

“…What is _that_ supposed to mean?” She questioned lowly. _‘Anne’_ it up? She truly tried not to get offended, but the way he had spat out the phrase like that made her temper begin to flare.

Ignoring her question and advancing on her even more, letting go of his bag to gesture wildly around. “You clearly never really cared about me anyway – we were never actual _friends_ after all.”

With those words, her heart immediately shattered. Not just with the words themselves, but the way that the words seemed to physically pain him too. But he went relentlessly on.

“So why bother hanging out with me? Why bother inviting me places? Why let me come over to your _house_? Why do all of that if you were just in it for your book the entire time? If you never cared?”

“Gilbert, stop it!” She cried, tears brimming in her eyes at all of these unfounded accusations. “You know that isn’t true! Of _course_ , I care!”

“Oh yeah?” He scoffed, laughing mirthlessly. “You have a funny way of showing it!”

“That is _not_ fair. I _always_ showed you I cared!” She points a finger accusingly at him, oblivious in the moment to the scene they were making in the middle of the street.

“Then stop trying to psycho-analyse my entire life and turn into a good storyline!” He shouted, for the first time in the entire argument, catching her off guard. “That’s all this was, right? A good story?”

Trying to calm herself down and control her emotions, knowing that their stubbornness and anger would get them nowhere, she took a deep breath and wiped her cheeks to collect a few strays that had creeped out. Looking back up to him, she tried to speak more gently to him, but still found herself simmering beneath the surface. “Gilbert, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that you wouldn’t want me to write about your dad, but if it makes you feel any better, I can change the name of the character so that nobody knows it’s you. They won’t be able to trace the character back to you…”

Running his hands over his face, he interrupted her again, meandering back and forth as if he were trying to put some distance between them but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “God, Anne, that has nothing to do with it! I wanted you to not write about it in the first place!”

With that, her blood began to come to a boil. She had tried to be reasonable, she had apologised _multiple_ times, and he was _still_ angry with her! Deep down, she knew that she was being slightly unreasonable – getting angry at him over this – but he was being just as unreasonable towards her. If he wouldn’t hear her out, how did he expect her to keep being apologetic?

Her mouth began running away with her, as she spat out her words at a louder volume again. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you agreed to this whole thing! You knew that I was researching for the book the entire time, that’s not my fault!”

He did a double take, mouth open as though he couldn’t believe what she had just said. “Oh, _sorry_ Anne, but I figured I didn’t need to draw a line in the sand with what you could write about in my life – especially when I was a _fucking mess_ in your apartment, crying to you about my dad’s death!”

She knew she was just as much of a crying mess now, sobbing through her aggressive words. “I guess you wish you could take it all back now, huh? Before you even met me at all – is that what you want, Gilbert?”

His teeth bit down harshly onto his lower lip as he got into her personal space for the millionth time in their relationship. But this time, there were no sparks of excitement and electricity. Instead, she saw tears pooling around in his own eyes and the strain in his face as he tried to hold back from crying too. His lip trembled violently.

_God, that was an image she would never be able to forget._

“Anne, of course I don’t want that!” He moaned, trembling as he spoke, searching her face for a sign of resignation, both wanting the argument to end but unwilling to relent their point and concede. “You – Christ, Anne, you have no idea how much I _care_ about you! I could never take it all back, even if I _did_ want to! _It’s eating me up, Anne! It’s all I can think about!”_

They both stalled. The intense stare off between them spoke volumes, but now was not the place or time. They were both furious and tear-stained, without the ability to articulate any feelings that had so far gone unresolved. Somehow, it felt the argument had shifted topic.

He breathed in, continuing when she had nothing to say in response. “But I _can’t_ keep doing this.”

“Doing _what_?” She hated the sound of her voice in that moment – she sounded so tired and fragile, like the anger that bled through was all a pathetic front.

“Just being this stupid character! That’s all I am to you, and you don’t even realise!”

“What? Gilbert, what on _earth_ are you talking about?” In some ways she was playing dumb, pretending like she didn’t know what he was referring to her at all – as though she hadn’t considered the very same thing just that morning. But in the heat of her emotional state, she couldn’t even begin to comprehend the book anymore.

She was losing him, and she knew it.

“You just…” He trailed off half-heartedly, with an exhausted drop of his head, causing him to clumsily drag his forehead down her own at their close proximity. She immediately took a step back for his own sake, as he came back up rubbing his eyes with both hands, finally looking down at her again. He seemed softer again. There was no anger…just that awful, _awful_ pain and hurt.

“…You need to figure it out, Anne. Who am I? Am I ‘Gilbert’, or am I _Gilbert_?”

Shaken to her core and emotionally drained, she reached out limply in a flimsy attempt to bring him back to her – as if embracing him would fix all of their problems. He flinched at her touch on his shoulder, letting her linger for a bit before gently taking her hand in his hand and slowly pushing it back to the rest of her body. His gaze was fixed to the ground, and a small smattering of tears hit the pavement beneath them as they both looked down.

“…I can’t trust myself to be around you anymore.” He murmured, startling her enough look up at him while he stayed fixated on his shoes. “Not when everything is obviously confusing for you – that’s not fair on either of us, you know it. And this thing with my dad…”

“Gil…” She wheezed, grimacing at the idea that nothing she could possibly say in that moment would be enough to make him change his mind. But she wanted to try. She so desperately wanted to try.

“…I’ll see you, Anne. Good luck with the book.” He muttered, meeting her eyes one last time. She knew that he meant it too, no matter how cold his voice sounded – that was what made it all the more painful to hear.

Her voice was caught in her throat as she watched him stagger backwards, breathing shakily before finally turning back around and continuing down the street. This time, he was in no hurry – he knew that she wouldn’t try to follow him this time.

She didn’t know how long she stood there. It was long after he had already turned the corner and disappeared from her line of sight. But she couldn’t bring her feet to walk away, despite how much she knew she needed to go – she probably owed the barista, who had been so uncommonly kind to her that day, an explanation for why she was in such a rush. Instead, she hugged her arms around her chest protectively and forced herself to suck in her tears and cries, while the tears that had already made their way out slowly started to dry out in the evening sun. She knew she would feel all of her emotions in full force that night, but as she stood motionlessly in the middle of the walkway, with the odd passer by avoiding her trembling frame in their path home, she felt nothing. She just felt empty.

When she finally came back to the café later, her half-finished latte was cold, and Happy Barista gently informed her that they would be closing shortly.

She thought back to the plans she had made in that café, less than an hour ago.

_How did it all go so wrong?_

* * *

It was later that night, when she had finally made her way back into her apartment. She had taken the walk home much slower that day, her feet seeming to enjoy the comfort of being dragged sluggishly along the pavement. The minute she entered the living room, she took a moment to collect herself from her mental exhaustion, surveying the simple furnishings with a calculating eye.

She assessed the silence in the apartment. It was too much.

So, she screamed. She let out all of her frustration, rage, suffering, confusion, helplessness – all of it.

She was an idiot to think that any of this could ever turn out well. She hated herself for letting herself get so close to him, when she had sworn up and down it was all for research. Maybe if she hadn’t been so stupid, he wouldn’t have trusted her, and none of this would have ever happened. Sure, she would never know how truly special Gilbert Blythe could become to her, but on the bright side, she would never have to deal with this overwhelming anger at him for leaving, and the debilitating reality that it was her fault.

She ran to her bedroom in between bursts of vocal anger, tearing her bag open with little care for the condition of it, throwing the contents onto her bedspread haphazardly. Spreading out her phone, keys, and other accessories for the bag, she separated the notebook from everything else. The manuscript was left untouched at her side, but she took the notebook into her hands, surveying it with a disdain she had never felt before.

_This was all your fault._

She didn’t know who she was really referring to – the notebook, Gilbert, herself. Did it matter? She was mad at all three. Flipping viciously through the full pages, she eventually made it to the particular page in question, pausing to absorb the words that caused this whole problem.

_“Hello father.” Gilbert murmured. His hands were folded behind his back, with his arms tensed as he stood stock still in front of the gravestone…”_

God, what was she thinking? She should have known that getting a complete stranger involved in this would be an awful idea. Splashes of tears fell onto the writing and she clenched her jaw, reading and rereading it over and over again and cursing to herself.

The last straw was the flashing memory of Gilbert yelling in her face, expression tight and guarded.

_“Then stop trying to psycho-analyse my entire life and turn into a good storyline!”_

_“It’s eating me up, Anne! It’s all I can think about!”_

With all the strength she could muster, she ripped the dreaded pages in question out of the notebook’s spine, scrunching them up into fisted balls and throwing them across the room, leaving them scattered in various corners of the room – but she didn’t care. She knew the manuscript was fine, and the story was still backed up on her laptop as well, so she had no concern for the condition of her book. Either way, that was the least of her worries in that moment – her blind tantrum blocked everything else from the forefront of her mind.

When she was panting for breath again, having ripped out far too many pages and thrown the notebook back to the head of bed, she paused, sinking to the ground in front of the bed. On her knees, and with much of her anger finally exhausted, she released the most pathetic sounding sob she had ever heard, trying to stifle it with her palm covering her mouth. When it didn’t stop, she leaned her head forward, bending over onto the cushioned mattress of the bed, stuffing her face into the bunched-up fabric of the quilt and muffling her cries.

She stayed there until she was sure that she had completely dried up her tear ducts, and dragged her body slowly up onto the bed, collapsing down onto her front with no energy to reassemble herself. Peeking to the side of her face, she found the notebook again – it was taunting her, left discarded and opened to one of the pages from earlier on in the book. She couldn’t quite tell what it said from there, but that voice that she had become accustomed to lately told her to reach out and bring it closer for a better look.

With her elbows now just managing to hold her up, she read through the list on the page, managing a wistful smile at the nostalgic feeling in the pit of her stomach.

_Sweater laptop messy curls eyebrows tell a thousand stories chiseled jawline skin was tinted and sun-kissed kind eyes nervous habit foot tapping aggressive hands_

She was sure she would have teared up again if she had anything left in her beyond exhaustion.

The stubborn part of her brain that had gotten her into this absolute mess cried out to her to let out her frustrations against Gilbert onto the page. _It told her that isn’t the Gilbert you know. Write out what you **really** think about him_. She didn’t hate that idea, but when she grabbed a pen from her nightstand with the intentions to write out all the hateful things her brain could manage, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Writing was her escape, and she knew it would help her get out all of her anger at Gilbert. She had a lot she could say, so why couldn’t she just write it down? The list was long in her head – annoying, frustrating, idiotic, rude, stubborn, bad dancer…

_Dumb…_

_Goofy…_

_Well-meaning…_

_Kind…_

_Generous, considerate, witty, intelligent, loving…_

She had started writing without her own volition, only vaguely registering the collection of words that made their own way onto the page. She couldn’t stop her hand from writing, as she recollected every painful, _wonderful_ memory of the last couple of months.

Before she knew it, the descriptions took up the majority of the page – forgetting about the list and placed carelessly around the rest of the space, filling up every blank spot with messy handwriting.

Exhaling shakily, she read the words over again.

Of course, she didn’t hate Gilbert. How could she when he…

Her eye caught onto one word in particular, that she hadn’t even realised she had written. It lay hidden away in the furthest top corner, almost hidden by the various creases of the previously dog-eared edges. It was messy, it wasn’t really a description, and it hardly made any sense from a distance, but she understood perfectly well what she wrote when she read it close up.

_Love_

And just like that, it all became perfectly clear to her – why she was so hurt, why she was so mad, why it felt like everything was ending.

She was in love with Gilbert Blythe.

And she had completely ruined it.

Whether or not he felt the same way, she had still broken his heart and put a rift in their friendship by betraying his trust. She let herself blur the line and treated him like he was just a book character. When in reality, he had come to mean so much more to her in only a number of weeks.

And whether or not it could be fixed, she had to try.

Ripping out the page much more carefully this time, she placed it onto her nightstand and shuffled around to grab her laptop, crossing her legs and opening it up. She knew that she had some adjustments she needed to make to the story, and she had only a few hours to do so.

After tomorrow, she would face the music. She had to see him – to apologise.

Before she let him decide whether she was worth the trouble. 

* * *

_“Alice! Slow down, where are we going?” He panted out heavily, concern lacing his tone as she physically dragged him through the bracket of the trees, far beyond the square. She could hardly focus on their surroundings, consumed by panic as she finally realised that their time had run out._

_They had come to find her – and she would be taken away again._

_She had to tell him the truth, before he was lost to her forever._

_When she at last reached the familiar clearing, that had led them to a place she had never dared to dream she would ever experience, she pulled to a stop and whirled around in a flurry to grab him by the shoulders. She was sure she looked a flustered, frightened wreck, but it didn’t matter. He grasped onto her hands against his body, and watched her in confusion, waiting for her to provide some answers. Somehow, she managed to finally speak._

_“I haven’t been honest with you.” She blurted out quickly, breathy and panicked as it was._

_“What? What are you talking about?” He said, clearly worried about her in her fragile state. “Is this to do with something at home? The thing you couldn’t tell me about?”_

_She opened her mouth to respond, but when no sound came out, she hummed the affirmative and nodded rapidly – she knew they hadn’t much time left._

_He brought her closer by the waist, a determined expression as he grasped her cheek. “I promise you I will help you. But you need to tell me now so that we can fix this.”_

_She felt her chest tighten, and it was suddenly very difficult to breathe. Latching onto him for stability, she choked out the words that she was struggling so much to say out loud._

_“Alice is not my name.” She tucked her head into his neck to avoid looking at his expression. “My name is Cordelia.”_

_He stiffened slightly under her, but it took little time for him to regain his composure, wrapping his arms around her. “Okay?” He questioned. “Why would you lie about your name?”_

_“I had no choice!” She cried, pulling back to face him again. “If they heard my name about town, they would surely come and take me away, and I refused to go back to-“_

_“Woah, woah, woah!” He interrupted. “Breathe for me. What are you talking about? Who would take you away?”_

_“The guards – the guards were in the square and they saw us. I think that they were asking about me and they surely would have recognised me in another second – my hair would be a complete giveaway. But we have to go soon, they will come for me, and if they find you here with me…”_

_“Al…Cordelia,” he tried out the name hesitantly – and if things were under different circumstances, she was sure she would have buckled at the knees at the sound of her real name finally tumbling from his lips – before pulling back to assess her delicately. “Are you in some kind of trouble with the guards? Did you do something wrong? If you did, I promise I would never think any less of you – I promise I will love you no matter what-“_

_“I’m the princess!”_

_While a weight was lifted from her shoulders, she still struggled to breathe. The tension in the air snapped, and he stumbled backwards in shock. The ghost of his hands on her was still palpable against her skin, even as they hovered in front of him with uncertainty. His mouth hung open, moving to speak every now and again, but no words were spoken. She could not read the look on his face, and it broke her heart to think that he might change his mind now. This was yet another thing she was afraid of._

_Rushing forward to his motionless frame, she pressed her hands to his chest in a plea for him to come back to her, as she trembled through her words, the thought of their time running out as the moments went by stirred her on. “I promise you, I wanted to tell you – so many times, I wished that I could tell you. But I thought that if you didn’t know, I could somehow protect you.” A hand moved up to his face. “Gilbert, I swear that I never expected for any of this to happen when I snuck out for the first time – I was trapped in that castle for so long that all I could have wanted was the chance to see the town, to not feel so alone._

_“But I would never take it back. I promise, the only pretend thing was my name – this is the most real thing in my life. Please, Gilbert, you have to believe me – I just could never bring myself to give you up.”_

_He stayed silent, watching her with that wide-eyed and unmoving gaze, hands clenched. She thought perhaps it was a good sign that he had yet to back away from her, but it still did nothing to ease her sorrow. She felt a tear roll down her cheek before she could hold it in, as she whispered to him again. “Please say something – please Gilbert just – just say something.”_

_For a moment, it looked like he had come back to himself, going to answer. But just as a flicker of hope emerged, a gust came and blew out the spark._

_“I found her men! She is in the clearing!” A gruff male voice shouted, making her gasp at the sound, accompanied by the sound of approaching hooves. Coming to his senses completely, Gilbert grabbed her arm and began in the opposite direction of the voice. However, they never made it far – three other guards emerged on their horses from the other side of the clearing, blocking their path. He put his arm out in front of her, allowing some kind of barrier between her and the horsemen, as they backed away. But they forgot about the other guards._

_With their backs turned, they didn’t notice one guard, on foot, forcibly grabbing her arms and pulling her backwards. At the strong, almost painful force, she let out a shriek, alerting Gilbert as he turned to see her being pulled away. Tears were blurring her vision as she screamed, but she could see the look of horror on his face at the sight of her kicking and pulling to get away._

_“Cordelia!” He screamed, rushing forward and only just getting within her reach, when he was apprehended by two other men, one on each side. He fought and thrashed around, grunting as he struggled to release himself from their grip. But when one other guard kicked the backs of his knees in, he lost his balance and fell to the ground with a thud, landing on his knees._

_“No! Stop it! Stop hurting him!” She screamed at them, but they took no notice of her calls. Her love groaned as pulled his arms even tighter behind his back, stretching him out and torturing him as he tried with all his might to get back up onto his feet._

_“Princess, we are under strict orders to use force if the need arises.” The guard behind her announced in her ear, grunting as she continued to struggle against him. “This man will be punished accordingly for kidnapping a member of the royal family.”_

_Her blood ran cold, and she stopped moving. Spinning to face him, she tried to coherently express herself, but everything was becoming a blur. “No, no, no – no! You don’t understand, I came to him, he knows nothing about me! I never told him, he didn’t know I was royal, please, please – please don’t do this!”_

_“_ _Cordelia!” She heard the familiar voice and went back to look down at Gilbert on the ground. He was getting further and further away as they dragged her back to the horse at the front of the clearing, but she could still the tears running down his face and the painful grimace on his lips. “Don’t touch her! Stop! Please – Cordelia, I love you! I will find you – I promise!” He shouted, racked with choked emotion._

_“I love you, Gilbert, I’m so sorry – I love you, I love you, I-“ A hand came to cover her mouth, muffling her shouts, but she bit into the gloved hand as hard as she could, granting her enough access to shout one final time. “Please don’t hurt him, please! I’m sorry! Please!”_

_Her cries and shouts continued as they mounted her onto the horse – with the help of multiple guards to keep her as steady as possible – and they began riding away. She sobbed helplessly, the entire ride back to the castle. Her loud bawling was all she could hear for miles around, and the last image in her head, before she succumbed to her emotional fatigue, was the scene of Gilbert managing to free himself for a moment, running towards the horse. They were already too far away for him to catch up, but he called her name one more time, before he was grabbed and forced to the ground once more._

* * *

_“Please, you have to tell them that he did nothing wrong! He had no idea I was the princess – please!” She insisted, grabbing onto the bars in the open gap in her bedroom door. On the other side, one of the advisors who worked for her father – who she could never quite remember the name of – stood expressionless, hands behind his back and eyes skimming just above her forehead. He would not even indulge her the benefit of eye contact._

_“Deepest apologies, Your Highness, but the king has made his final decision. The boy is to be imprisoned in the dungeon and executed come the morning.”_

_Her heart shattered, and the weight of her own body suddenly seemed to be far too much for her to carry. She slumped forward onto the door, her lip snagging onto stray splinter, but she paid no heed to her physical pain. She was numb – she knew she would be numb for the rest of her life._

_“Please…” She mumbled, the only sound she could force out of her strangled throat. “I will do anything they ask of me – just let him go.”_

_He sighed quietly. “Well…there is one possibility.”_

_She alerted, gripping to the bars as though her life depending on it. Pressing her face back up into the window, she urged them on. “Yes! Yes! I will do it, whatever it is. I promise, if it will let him free, I promise I will do it.”_

_“The king and queen may be open to a compromise…” He muttered carefully. “If you agree to the marriage with Prince Royal of Alberta when he is of age come spring, then the council may be persuaded to allow the boy to leave._

_“But,” He continued, before she could protest any kind of engagement, “you would be forbidden to ever leave the castle grounds again under the rule of His Majesty. You would never be permitted to go to the village again, and you must solemnly swear to never see that farm boy ever again, lest he be imprisoned once more.”_

_She swallowed – her eyes trained on his wary expression. Biting her lip, she spoke up in a mousy voice. “But he would live? He would be sent back home?”_

_"Yes, Your Highness.”_

_For a moment, she could not pull her mind away from the concept of never seeing Gilbert again – but she knew that was a selfish thought. She may love him, but he had a family who needed him. If she had to give him up for the rest of her life, she could only live with herself if it meant he could go on living freely. No matter what, she knew that there was no other option._

_“Yes.” She rushed out. “Yes, I will marry him. I promise. Just promise me that he will walk free – I’m begging you.”_

_A flash of sympathy went through his eyes, and he solemnly nodded his head. “As you wish, Your Highness. I will let His Majesty know that you have made your choice – I will return with his final decision.” And with that, he disappeared back down the winding staircase to join the rest of the castle._

_And just as before, she went numb._

_She distantly felt her feet shuffle towards her window, situating herself against the chair and slumping down. A peak of sunlight was still left poking through the corner of her the open space – her only glimpse into the outside world. It glared in her eyes, and made her squint, before she turned away from facing the window._

_She couldn’t look out into the village anymore. She wouldn’t let herself dream anymore. She had already had a taste of that life, and if she could not have it with Gilbert, she knew that she no longer wanted it. It would never feel right._

_Pulling her knees into her chest, she gave into her selfishness, wailing as loud as she would allow herself. But she knew nobody could hear her._

_Nobody would hear her ever again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this legit made me really really sad, conflict makes me go :( but it had to be done. Don't worry, only one more chapter and then an epilogue, so things will at LEAST not be this sad by the end!
> 
> Want to thank you all for all your continued support, as I am writing this we are nearly at 3000 reads???? excuse me huh?? That's so crazy to me, and I love ya'll xxxx
> 
> As always, stay safe, healthy, and informed :)


	11. The Tragical Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne reaches out, and the novel is finally finished.

_**(sent)** : Hey _

_**(sent)** : You don’t have to respond to me, I just wanted to reach out _

_**(sent)** : actually it’s probably better if you don’t reply, I have a lot I need to say _

_**(sent)** : I know we haven’t talked for a while, but I just needed to let you know how sorry I am for what I did and the way I acted _

_**(sent)** : It was completely out of line and I should have just apologised properly as soon as you told me you were upset _

_**(sent)** : but more than that I should have known better than to write about your dad without asking you about it first _

_**(sent)** : It doesn’t make up for anything but I wanted to make things right as much as I could, and I rewrote the manuscript to change the story _

_**(sent)** : If you see this I just wanted you to know so that you know you don’t need to worry about that being in the book anymore _

_**(sent)** : I’m going to tell the story the right way – I promise you _

_**(sent)** : if you could take pity on me somehow and find it in your heart to hear me out, I would really love for us to meet up in person when you’re ready. I have a lot I need to say and I don’t think it would be right for me to say it over text _

_**(sent)** : Just let me know when you can. I really miss you _

_(Read at 11:15)_

* * *

The breeze hit her abruptly as she approached the automatic doors, squinting her eyes as she finally re-emerged into the glorious midday sunshine. She still couldn’t have left the house without her jacket, but she couldn’t help herself from smiling to herself at the unseasonably bright sky before her. Maybe things were starting to look up after all.

The final meeting had been an _absolute_ success – Josephine had proclaimed her love for the novel, which she took the liberty of reading herself. In her words, she decided that Anne had a voice that she needed to witness on the page with her own eyes. The redhead had teared up as the older woman gushed to her about the possibilities of her future. It gave her such hope for Josephine to have that kind of faith in her, and she had spent the rest of the meeting with her head abuzz and her stomach aflutter.

Even the other, more uptight, members were seemingly impressed by her work – one even casually asking her whether or not she had any plans to add a sequel to the book, to which she had responded that she had enough possible ideas and material to carry through to a trilogy. Of course, it all depended heavily on the actual success of the book, which was all theoretical. But the illogical side of Anne’s brain had won out overall, deciding to worry more about that when the book was actually released. For now, she was happy to sit back and admire the hard work and determination she had poured into the months and months of pages between her fingers.

Speaking of the last month, she couldn’t help but reflexively check her recent messages, hoping, by some miracle, that she just hadn’t felt her phone buzz in the midst of all the excitement.

Deflating, she realised with a thud that there was still nothing new. No reply. Obviously. She didn’t even deserve a response for the way she had acted.

Onto that topic…

As she began the slow walk back to her apartment, she allowed her mind to wander, now that the stress and impending deadlines were finally (for the most part) over, or at least most of the weight was off of her shoulders. She knew she was a fair distance away, so she would have around a half hour of walking ahead of her, but that wasn’t an issue. She thought to herself that she could use the fresh air and sun, things that it felt like she hadn’t seen much of these last few months.

With her wandering mind about her, and her thoughts clear of publishers and princesses, she found herself floating back to the same separate worry that had been occupying the very sparse free space in her head in the past few weeks. Gilbert.

Since her first meeting with Josephine about the final draft, she had still yet to hear any kind of response on Gilbert’s end – and it had been two weeks since then.

Part of her thought that perhaps he would never respond – that their relationship was truly broken for good, and he wanted nothing to do with her. Most of the time, she had listened to that voice, letting doubts and self-hatred consume her.

But then, she would remind herself of the glimmer of hope that she had, all be it a saddening memory.

_“Anne, you have no idea how much I care about you!”_

She didn’t want to overanalyse what he had said. After all, it had been in the heat of a passionate and emotional argument, and he had been essentially yelling at her for a good portion of time just beforehand. But, still…

She cared about him too. Just as much. Probably more, she expected.

In her moments of reflection, her mind had found the solitude it had been asking for in the silence she hadn't been gifted the pleasure of much lately, and had pulled Gilbert away from whatever version of him had made its way onto the pages beside Cordelia. Sure, he was charming, brave, funny - he was everything Gilbert was to her in real life.

But he wasn't tangible. There was a distance there. She had prided herself on always knowing exactly what was going on in the minds of her characters, and she thought she could read people pretty well in her everyday life as a result of that. Gilbert and his fictional counterpart seemed so glaringly different to her now that she became baffled at how she could have thought to get them confused. 

Cordelia's Gilbert wanted a life with her, and he wanted to give her the life she deserved. Outside of that, he was a family man, and he wanted to protect his clan and provide for them.

Anne's Gilb...The real life Gilbert was broader than that. He was such a wide spectrum of colour, bursting at the seams, that it would be impossible to capture even half of his essence on the page.

Because he was truly imperfect, no matter how much she often doubted that such a thing could be possible. Because his life continued when she wasn't around, and yet he somehow chose to orbit even a section of his life around her existence. Because she could write an entire book with him as every character, purely based on all of his ambitions, desires, wishes, motivations, likes, dislikes, and it still wouldn't put into the right words how much it meant to be within that space - to even be considered part of some of those lists.

Because he was so tangible, so life-like, in a way that only Gilbert Blythe could be to her.

So, yes. She cared about him too. Definitely far too much to ever be matched.

If he cared about her as much as he said, maybe this distance was as painful for him as it had been for her. Because it had been _awful_. Perhaps it was the newly found realisation of the depth of her feelings for Gilbert that had resurfaced her overly emotional tendencies - but she supposed that was par for the course when you discover you are in love with one of your closest friends, and there is a high likelihood that they would never want to speak to you again.

She had to stop thinking like that.

No, if this was the way things were meant to be, then she would try her hardest to live without him. He deserved to be happy, and if that meant that she couldn’t be part of his life anymore, then…so be it. It would hurt like absolute _hell_ , but she was sure it wouldn’t hurt this bad forever. It couldn’t, right?

Trying to focus back onto her fleeting feelings of accomplishment, she resolved to plug in her earphones and try to narrow down that feeling for the rest of her walk home. She would fret about her broken heart more when she was back in the comfort of her own apartment – at least until Cole and Diana arrived with celebratory wine bottles. She allowed herself to smile at the thought of the newly formed trio that had developed over the last few weeks outside of all her problems. It reminded her that, no matter how much seemed to have gone wrong, she was so _blessed_ to have potential for a promising future in writing, and especially to have people in her life that truly mattered to her.

Whether or not she mattered as much to them.

She decided her ABBA playlist would do the job nicely.

* * *

Tipsy giggling fits had officially worn off for the night, and she had only just managed to push Cole and Diana out of the front door – in between hugs and kisses and teasing jabs – when she finally collapsed into bed. It took her only a moment to remember that she hadn’t checked her phone in the last hour, since Cole had forcibly ripped it out of her hands at the couch and ran into her room to plug it in, insisting that she needed to have ‘one night off from your relentless pining’.

But she huffed into her hands, realising how pathetic it was for her to even bother checking, when he would never need to give her the time of day again. He was probably going to be better off without her meddling in his life and his problems anyway – there was no point in checking.

With that thought, she grabbed her phone off the charging station anyway.

She just about dropped the device onto her face in shock when she saw the new notification, from that blessed nickname that she never thought she would get to see again.

With a newfound vigour, sleep long forgotten, she rapidly opened her lock screen and went to the conversation. Somehow, she had missed multiple messages, only in the last twenty minutes. She almost laughed, thinking about how it seemed Gilbert was a total night owl when it came to texting, but she refrained, much too focused on the fact that he had actually replied to her.

_**(Uncle Gilby)** : Hey. Sorry it took me a while. Needed to think things through. I’m happy to meet up – you’re right we need to talk. _

_**(Uncle Gilby)** : Does tomorrow work? The usual place and time _

Exhaling for what felt like the first time in weeks, she typed out her reply as steadily as she could with her anxiety-riddled, shaking hands.

_**(sent)** : Yes absolutely – thank you Gilbert. Good night :) _

Not wanting to spend the next ten minutes in a tailspin of panic waiting for him to respond, she turned her phone off completely, and threw it back to the nightstand as she wrapped herself up in her blankets. That night, she drifted off into a fitful sleep – much like she had for the last few weeks – but this time she only felt sick with nerves.

_Do I tell him?_

* * *

Happy Barista (Ka’kwet, Anne had learnt her name was, from the tag she wore that she somehow hadn’t noticed before) hadn’t been on register that afternoon, but had cast her a knowing look when she noticed her walk in. She had probably gathered that something had occurred between them that had resulted in her and Gilbert not coming in for the first time in about ten Thursdays.

Sending her a grateful nod for her discretion and sympathy, she ordered a peppermint tea - she had come to the conclusion that coffee would do nothing for her nerves, and hoped that the tea would soothe her racing heartbeat – and settled into their booth by the window, before she froze midway across the seat.

Was it a good idea to sit here, now? What if it brought back too many memories? Would he want to rid himself of any evidence that they were so close? What if this whole meeting was so that he could break off their friendship amicably and move on forever? _Should she see someone about the amount of questions that seemed to endlessly swirl around her mind every time the mere thought of Gilbert Blythe entered her head?_

“Hey.”

_Shit._

_She wasn’t ready yet._

_She needed time._

_She needed a few minutes to-_

“Hi!” She spun abruptly, not bothering to check who it was, since she knew she could pick that timbre anywhere. Feeling the need to stand up, no matter how awkward it looked, she rose out of her seat to face him head on – that was a mistake.

Gilbert had only just entered the café, and it looked like he was just as unprepared to talk to her as she felt. She should have figured that they would end up in this mess – they both always managed to be about fifteen minutes early for all of their meetings, no matter how much they each insisted that there was no rush. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was struggling to form words in response, and his lips parted slightly as though he were mid-sentence. She tried desperately not to focus on that last part.

He was wearing one of his sweaters, she thought with a start. It was black – she hadn’t ever seen him wear that one before. His jeans were a dark shade too. The dreary ensemble only seemed to rip another hole into the centre of her heart, because _she did that_. That fatigued expression was on her conscious, and she was sure it would remain that way for the rest of her life.

Realising that she had been staring for far too long to be considered purely ‘friendly’, she smiled awkwardly, putting her hands behind her back. He coughed suddenly, righting himself and tucking his hands into his pockets. It seemed they had the same idea, there.

“It’s uh…it’s good to see you.” He dragged out quietly, averting his gaze to the floor when he was done talking, leaving her open to join the ‘conversation’.

“You too.” She said genuinely.

“Do you – do you want to sit down?”

“Oh, right! Sorry.” She shook herself, forcing a chuckle and sliding back into the seat, gesturing for him to join her on the opposite side. “Did you want anything to drink?” She questioned, quickly realising she should definitely buy him something.

“No, it’s okay.” He insisted, hand up before she could even offer to pay for him. It was a slightly happy thought, that he seemed to know her better than she knew her own actions.

“Oh. Cool.” She stammered, unsure of where they were meant to start.

He seemed to be having the same problem. He kept staring at his lap, darting glances back up to her every few seconds and scrunching and un-scrunching his eyebrows.

Sick of the uncomfortable silence, she spoke up, knowing she was the one who owed all of the reparations.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“-huh?”

The minute the apology left her lips, he had immediately overlapped her, filling in with another apology of his own.

But she just regarded him with sheer confusion – what did he have to be sorry for? Sure, she had been mad at him before, but she was being unreasonable: he hadn’t really done anything wrong. The entire fault had boiled down to her own stupid discrepancies.

“Gilbert, why are _you_ sorry?” She questioned.

“Are you serious?” He asked back, incredulously. “I took two weeks to reply to you when you reached out – and that was all while you were getting your book finished up with all those publishers.” He ran a hand through his curls in shame. “That was a shitty way for me to show I was upset. I should have just told you that I needed more time straight away.”

“No!” She insisted, shocked that he was even _trying_ to blame himself for anything here. “This whole thing was my fault in the first place, I’m the only one who needs to apologise here.”

“Anne…“

“Will you let me apologise first, before you say anything else? I’ve been thinking about this pretty much constantly, and I really need you to hear it.” She interrupted.

Flushed to his cheeks at her sincerity, he nodded silently for her to continue.

Sighing and collecting herself, she never broke eye contact with him as she spoke: she didn’t want to lose the burst of courage she had suddenly been granted, and he deserved to know how genuinely apologetic she was.

“I am so, _so_ sorry, Gilbert. I should have talked to you the second that it even crossed my mind to write about your father, at very least. Better yet, I should have known better right from the start, and I should have known not to write about it. You were vulnerable with me, as a friend, and I betrayed you – I made you think I wasn’t trustworthy. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I can’t go on without letting you know how _very_ much I regret everything I did to you to make you hate me so much.”

“Hate you?” He jerked his head in her direction, a startled look in his eyes, before he softened up. “I never hated you, Anne. I was upset, yes, and I was angry…but I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

“Really?” She hesitated to ask.

A small smile, all be it a dreadfully sad one, fell onto his face then. “If I hated you every time that we had a slight argument, we would most definitely _not_ be here right now.”

Somehow, they managed to chortle at that. Things felt like they were getting back to the way there, slowly but surely.

“So…do you think you could possibly forgive me?” She requested softly, still unsure whether she even deserved for him to properly forgive her.

He merely smiled back, traces of that dreaded fondness. “Yeah. I do. Of course, I forgive you.”

She felt the cracks in her heart slowly start to piece themselves back together – it wasn’t everything she wanted with him, but it was better than nothing at all. She let herself smile back, as a relief filled giggle involuntarily escaping her. _“Thank you.”_

“Onto more important matters…” He trailed off, sounding like he was trying to get his teasing lilt back into their conversations. “How did the meetings go? Did they like the book?”

He sounded so genuinely hopeful and curious that she very nearly melted on the spot. _Dear Lord, how could someone not love Gilbert Blythe?_ “They did. It’s set to be released early next year, once the final edits and design have been made.”

He lit up like a Christmas tree, seemingly not realising when he leaned forward and grabbed her hands, shaking them enthusiastically on the table. “That’s amazing! See, I told you it would all work out, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” She squeezed, desperately ignoring the butterflies flapping violently in her stomach. “By the way, I know I already said this in the texts, but I changed the story after…the other week. I took out the bit about Gilbert’s father, replaced it with his relationships to the rest of his family. It wasn’t fair to you, and I know it doesn’t make up for everything that happened, but…”

“Anne-girl…” The familiar nickname stopped her dead in the midst of her rambled speech, and he suddenly seemed closer than he was before. He also hadn’t let go of her hands, and instead held them tighter between his own when he spoke. “It’s okay. I really appreciate it. Thank you. I probably owe you some explaining too.”

He went on, surprisingly confident in his conviction. “I hadn’t dealt with my dad’s death properly – I thought I had, but I hadn’t talked to anybody about it like I had with you. That’s part of why I was so mad, I think. But I also lashed out because…it felt like you were writing about this guy finally letting go, of moving on from the past.

“That guy was meant to be me, but I don’t think I ever actually moved on. I thought I had, but I was wrong…What you did wasn’t necessarily right, but what you told me that night, and what I think you were trying to say in the book - it did help me. I just wanted you to know that.”

She had no idea how to respond. She thought if she tried to show him how much that meant – how much she truly understood, on a deep level, what he meant by moving on from loss – she would burst into tears right then and there. How was he always _so good_ , even when she didn’t deserve it?

He didn’t make her answer, moving onto another question, but keeping his voice low and their hands joined. His eyes flickered with something she had yet to identify, but something that made her spine stand on end.

“So, what happens to Cordelia and Gilbert in the end?” He murmured, absent-mindedly stroking his thumb along the back of her hand while she opened her mouth to respond.

Her voice came out a little airy, despite the subject matter. It felt wrong to say, but it was a simple question. “Well, she gets discovered with Gilbert and taken back to the palace, and he is taken to the dungeons to be executed. So, to save him, she has to sacrifice her freedom – she agrees to never leave the palace and to be forced into an arranged marriage. She sacrifices everything for him, because…a life without him is better than a world without him in it.”

He grimaced, with a hint of a smirk. “Sounds a little morbid, don’t you think?”

She breathed out a laugh but didn’t feel any humour between them in the moment. “It _is_ a tragical romance, after all.”

Her own words dampened her mood, as she looked back down to their hands, neatly laced between the two of them. The image gave her a little hope, that perhaps…

“But I spoke to the publishers and they wouldn’t be opposed to a possible sequel, so who knows?” Her words were much louder and seemed to break whatever spell had entranced them at their familiar table.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in mood and unable to come to a confident answer, before clearing his throat and pulling his hands away. She grasped the air subtly, unhappy with the lack of warmth around her.

Once he had adjusted, he chuckled lightly, and wandered his eyes over her once more. “Yeah. Who knows, indeed…”

Unable to stifle the tension still between them, she decided that now _definitely_ wasn’t the right place or time to tell him. After all, they had all the time in the world now, right?

Changing subjects, she raised an eyebrow. “You want to know what Cole told me last night about Ruby and Moody’s date?”

A devilish smirk on his face, he leaned over the table-top with keen interest and quirked his own eyebrow in their own kind of conversation. “Spill it, immediately.”

* * *

The sun had begun to set by the time they finally wrapped up. It seemed that the few weeks of separation had gifted them in some ways, with a plethora of stories they had both been missing out on telling each other building up over the days without contact.

Anne had heard all about Dellie’s first time trick or treating with her parents, Bash’s mother visiting from Trinidad and embarrassing him so much that Gilbert keeled over in laughter, and Moody’s panicked video call to Gilbert twenty minutes before he picked up Ruby for their first date (“Gilbert, please! Is the tie too much, man? I need an answer!”).

She had in turn informed him of Diana’s resounding smack-down that she had given to a misogynistic customer at the diner, Marilla’s giddy insistence on hosting a party back in Avonlea for her newly approved novel, and Ruby’s own panicked text message strand in the middle of the date (“Anne. He’s too cute. I can’t do it. I WANT TO SMOOSH IS FACE. WHY IS THIS SO HARD.”).

Without them realising it, time had slowly started to slip away. It seemed like they had gotten so caught up in their reunion that they hadn’t even noticed the rapidly passing time. Though, there was still so much hanging in the air, and Anne was semi-disappointed that neither she nor Gilbert had broached the subject out loud.

As they finally packed up their minimal belongings and headed back out the door, she supposed it was for the best that she didn’t say anything. Clearly, he didn’t want things to change, and she knew their relationship was already fragile as it stood platonically. Who knew what kind of damage she could cause them if she suddenly threw the “L” word out there?

The kiss would stay just that – a kiss. She was sure that she could convince herself that it was the alcohol and the book talking, at least after a while of telling herself that.

Friendship was enough. She had him again, that was the important thing.

Exhaling loudly, so many of her worries of the last weeks finally being lifted from her chest, she looked out into the street as they shared a comfortable silence. The cool, early evening air should have chilled her, but she hadn’t felt so agreeably warm in a long time. It was a nice feeling, she thought to herself.

Turning back to her counterpart beside her, looking out in the same fashion, she didn’t hesitate to reach out towards him, a cheeky smile on her face as she beckoned him in for a hug with open arms. He caught her eye, chuckled silently, and swooped in enthusiastically, wrapping his arms gently around her body.

Not wanting to let him go just yet, afraid about watching him walk away for the first time since then, she nestled her nose into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes. If ‘friends’ was the way they were to stay, she wasn’t sure if she could control herself enough to hold him like this for a long time…at least until she could fully accept the way things were meant to be.

His head turned to leave his lips shockingly close to her ear – close enough for her to hear his shuddered, low breathing.

Coming back to her senses at the buzz of her phone in her front jean pocket, she jolted back in alarm – he obviously felt it in between their embrace, letting out a little yelp of surprise at the vibrating sensation. She giggled at the interruption, silently thankful for it.

“Well, I guess I better let you go…” She joked, fiddling with the sleeves of her cardigan when she didn’t know what to do with her hands. He noticed the movement and apparently decided not to ignore it for once.

“You do that a lot, you know?” He commented absently. She did know, but if she acknowledged why she did it, she would have to admit how nervous he made her. That was not a conversation she needed to be having.

When she hummed in response, he nodded and smirked down at her – breaking out of the serious look he had splayed across his face up until that moment. “Well, I personally can’t wait to read all about Cordelia and Gilbert – even if their ending is pretty tragical.”

Breaking the tension only slightly, he stuck out his hand in between them, challenging her non-verbally. She could only roll her eyes and put her hand within his, as he shook them heartily.

“Well, _Carrots_ , it’s been a pleasure working with you.” He teased, a hint of sincerity as he wrapped up. Months ago, that nickname would have resulted in a near violent display, but now Anne had to pursue her lips into a somewhat watery smile to hold back the rush of emotional memories.

“Of course. Likewise.” _Why did this feel like a goodbye?_

She knew that he felt it too, because he slowed down their humorous shake, leaving them hanging motionless. They made no move to part just yet, but he lowered his chin to get more on her eye level. “I’ll see you soon, yeah? Promise?”

"Yeah, I promise..." She scoffed, in an attempt to hide her sucking in a breath to hold back a tear. “Like I could stay away from my _muse_ for long.”

He grinned, biting his lip obviously and slowly pulling his hand out of hers – dragging the process out so much that she felt his fingers trailing clumsily along her own and hooking themselves together slightly as they finally broke apart, falling to their sides. For a moment, she thought he was stepping closer, but once again, her unanswered phone buzzed impatiently, reminding the both of them that they still had to catch up with the rest of reality, the parts they had completely missed in the last couple of hours.

Wistfully, she stirred the silence. “Bye, Gilbert.”

She didn’t move. He didn’t either.

“Bye, Anne.”

Waving shyly to remind herself that she had to leave eventually, she walked away. Before she got to the end of the street, she turned back – only to find that he had the same idea. From opposite ends of the street, she didn’t have to hold back a sniffle as she watched him watch her.

She forced herself to turn the corner.

They would be okay – she knew it.

* * *

_Cordelia found herself at the window for the first time in days, for she finally had motivation to stare out over the palace walls. Not bothering to hold back the moisture rolling down her cheeks, she grazed the aged stone underneath her fingertips and found the figure she was looking for. The familiar head of curls – made even more unkempt and damp from his time in the dungeons, but that was a thought she could not dwell on for long without becoming an emotional wreck – emerged from the main entrance, being shoved through by a pair of guards._

_Against her hope that he would turn around and leave straight away, getting away from the castle as soon as possible, he turned around in defiance. Trying to push past the barrier of armed guards between him and the gate, she silently begged him to stop fighting. She had stopped days ago, when she agreed to marry in exchange for his freedom. It pained her more than she could ever wholly express out loud, but it was for his own good. He deserved his freedom, and that was not a luxury she could be afforded – she should have just accepted that fact a long time ago._

_With a final push, she watched him stare upwards in hopelessness, thankfully not noticing her presence from so far away. After a short while, he turned painfully slowly, and began making his way through the marketplace. He seemed in a daze, as though he were sleep walking in broad daylight. Before long, he disappeared behind the tree line of the, now familiar, woods._

_Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned her head against the ledge, sending up a prayer that he would find peace._

_She knew she would never have peace without him, but it was her duty to one day become the Queen of the kingdom – and she had resolved to be the greatest ruler she could be. This was the way things were always going to end, but she could be the heroine of her own story. She would reign as a fair and just ruler and would make sure she saw her freedom once more._

_As for Gilbert, she selfishly prayed that their story was not truly over. It couldn’t be – not when they still had so many fruitful years ahead of them. Whispering to the wind, hoping it carried her words across the village and into the quaint little farmhouse by the lake, she smiled softly at the possibilities she vowed that she would make for herself._

_“Gilbert Blythe: my love. My lifemate. Til’ we meet again.”_

* * *

…

…

Okay, this was ridiculous.

She had been pacing around her empty apartment for the last twenty minutes since she had opened her front door and aimlessly wandered into the living room in a daze. Her insides felt like they were being torn apart aggressively inside of her, and she couldn’t stop herself from moving around to try and distract herself from the painful feelings she was experiencing.

She should have told him.

Their whole problem had been the lack of honesty and trust.

She trusted him completely. She knew that he wanted to trust her just as much. But how could he possibly trust her when she was keeping such a loaded secret from him?

Should she call him?

That question had been playing over and over in her head in those twenty minutes, his contact displayed brightly on her screen and taunting her. Multiple times, she had gone to make the call, or at least text him, but she had stopped herself every time.

How do you even broach the subject of telling your best friend “Hey, I realised, like last week, that I’m actually in love with you, and I just thought you would probably want to know since we had a huge argument right beforehand – okay, goodnight!”

Shit. She couldn’t do it.

 _Goddammit_. She had to do it.

A voice in the back of her head, that sounded strangely like Diana, called out to her, and before she could let her doubts run away with her, she pressed the call button. Hesitating, she brought it up to place it against her ear and listened to the dial tone.

It rang…and rang. It kept ringing for a minute, before she groaned and allowed herself to give up, hanging up the call.

Well, that was that.

 _Anne_. Diana whispered to her again. _This could be your last chance._

But it wasn’t. They were still friends. They would see each other again.

_But when? When will you feel this brave again?_

Even in her head, she knew Diana was the wisest girl she had ever met.

She picked up the phone again, calling him one last time.

This time, she waited even longer, tapping her fingers anxiously. _Just come straight out with it, it won’t be that awkward if you just say it. It’s easy, look; I love you. I love you. I love you…_

_Wait._

_What the hell...?_

A ringing sound distantly echoed in the hall outside, and it sounded like it was getting closer to her apartment. It couldn’t…

She let herself get carried away with hope, and practically ran back to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open to head into the open hallway and see for herself, but stopped in her tracks when she was beaten to the punch.

_Gilbert._

Standing before her, was the boy in question, hand raised mid-air as though he were just about to knock on the door himself, his phone still vibrating in his pocket but disregarded. Instead, he looked and sounded like he had been running, with his slightly glistening forehead and his laboured breathing. But she hardly focused on either of those details – his eyes bore intensely down at her, making her drop her phone on the small table by the door the second she saw him.

He wasted hardly any time before he spoke up, urgency in his tone.

“We can make a better ending than that, right?”

Not bothering to respond, she lunged forward and grabbed either side of his face.

_I love you._

The minute her lips collided with his, he responded in kind, desperately wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground to meet him more directly. With her newly found height, she wrapped her arms completely around his neck, bringing herself impossibly closer against his body.

Yet again, she found herself shocked by the way that every kiss somehow felt so different. The tentativeness long gone from their other kisses, she found newfound confidence to tug his lips between her own, owning her feelings and trying to press every thought she had never voiced out loud into his touch. As his lips moved urgently against her own, she grasped every part of his upper body she could get her hands on – his neck, his back, his hair, his shoulders, his cheeks.

After what felt like forever, he set her back gently onto the ground, allowing one of his hands to cup the back of her neck, tilting her head back to deepen their kiss as he leant down to meet her with a passion she couldn’t describe. When his fingers dug greedily into the sides of her waist, she let a sound she didn’t recognise, causing them to break apart suddenly, a breath’s width between their lips as they kept their hands in place.

Getting back their eye contact at their close proximity, the words flowed out of her in a breathy and longing voice that she could hardly call her own.

“I’m in love with you…”

“I love you.”

Somehow speaking at the exact same time, for the second time that day, they were both left gaping in surprise.

When it finally washed over her, she couldn’t help but let out a bout of shaky laughter, resting her forehead against his as he copied her actions instinctively.

_He loves me - Gilbert Blythe is actually in love with me._

“You promise?” He whispered, as Anne noticed the water welling in his eyes, much like her own. She chuckled, with a wet laugh, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips in response.

“I promise.” She responded, breaking voice and all. He didn’t seem to mind, however, smiling brighter than she had ever seen, before he grabbed her face between his hands and began peppering kisses everywhere his mouth could reach, eliciting giddy laughter from both of them.

In between his pecks, she felt his murmuring softly against her skin. _“God, I love you so much, Anne-girl. You drive me so crazy, I love you…”_

Savouring his lavishing kisses, she closed her eyes and pressed herself closer to him and raked her hands through his hair affectionately. This was it. She knew that this was it – everything she had ever been looking for, she could see it all clearly in front of her, and Gilbert was standing there beside her throughout all of it. Somehow, her wildest imagination - every fantastical romance she had ever envisioned for her stories - could never match up to the contended feeling of finally being in his arms, accepting a kind of love she never thought that she would ever receive, let alone _deserve_. 

When he slowed down in his attack, she pulled him back to face her, running her thumbs over his eyebrows in a familiar fashion that had them flashing back to the events that had led to this mess. She sobered only slightly, rushing to explain herself.

“It was real for me – that night.” She heard her words and backtracked a little. “Well, I guess that’s probably obvious now, but I wanted you to know that it wasn’t all for the book. It started out like that, but…”

“…but things changed.” He supplied, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, twinkling eyes and all. “Obviously.” He added cheekily.

She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. “Can I ask…how long for you?”

He shook his head down at her, a faraway look in his watery eyes.

“How long I liked you? Probably right from the beginning – but love? That one crept up on me…but I think I realised after I left your apartment that night.”

“God, Gilbert. I’m so, so sorry. I know I already apologised, but now I feel even worse about that whole thing – I love you so much, and I didn’t even realise how deep I was until we had that stupid argument, and that was all my fault, I should never have written…”

He shushed her fondly, dragging a thumb over her bottom lip and effectively silencing her panic, before resting his forehead against hers once more. “It’s okay, I promise. It doesn’t matter now.” Stealing a lengthy kiss from her lips, and pulling her in towards him, he nudged her nose with his own. “We got here in the end, didn’t we? No tragical romance required…”

Scratching the back of his neck as she wrapped her arms back around him, she took pleasure in the satisfied sigh he let out at the touch, grinning with her tongue between her teeth. “It turns out I’m not as fond of tragical romances as I thought I was, apparently.”

“So, how about this story?” He inquired lowly, speaking the words in between her parted lips, her eyes half-lidded as she awaited another kiss.

“How does this one end?” Gilbert’s muffled words shattered any resolve she had left.

“ _It doesn’t._ ” She breathed, casting her shining eyes up into his once more. At his jubilant expression, she closed the agonisingly small distance between their lips, sealing their happiness with another fierce kiss.

_My love. My lifemate. ‘Til we meet again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the original story is finished!! I didn't exactly promise you a happy ending, but hey, it SHirbert, man. It's always meant to be a happy ending with these two idiots, so of course they finally sorted their ish out! 
> 
> I will have a proper thank you after the epilogue, but thank you all so much for coming on this little journey with me :) I'd been sitting on this idea for months since my first story, and I'm so glad I went through with it and didn't just scrap it like I normally would.
> 
> Epilogue should be up same time next week, if not maybe a few days late while I finish up my first semester at university, but until then stay safe, healthy and informed - oh, and I LOVE YOU GUYS XXX


	12. The Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years later - Anne and Gilbert reunite, and celebrate some very good news with some very good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we go. final chapter. love ya'll :)

“You nearly finished, Anne?” Cole called from the kitchen. Beyond the clattering of plates and utensils, she heard Diana quietly cursing as she brought out the hot pan of brownies from the oven, quickly transferring it to the counter with a loud clatter. She simply rolled her eyes and huffed out an easy chuckle; if Diana was struggling, she couldn’t even imagine how disastrous she would have been, if she were to bake the brownies herself.

“Almost. Just polishing up the acknowledgements they needed by tomorrow morning, and then it’s all squared away!” She replied, her aggressively loud typing almost drowning her out at the sofa – however, that was a habit she could chock up to her boyfriend. It seemed that their close quarters had resulted in the sharing of multiple habits, as a matter of fact. Still, she couldn’t complain.

Speaking of her boyfriend, she finished up the short acknowledgement page, and read through it diligently in her head, almost unconsciously mouthing the words along as she did so. She smiled contentedly as she came to the end of the short paragraph. This section had been, without a doubt, the easiest part of her book – after all, it was something she had known right from the beginning that she would be including. It was a well-deserved act of gratitude, she thought to herself.

“Okay, I think I’m done – finally.” She sighed, leaning back into her chair, turning to face her companions. Cole was walking wildly around the living space, placing bowls of dip and platters of finger food onto the table, but looked over at her words. While he kept rearranging the party food, he grinned in excitement and slowly manoeuvred his way over to her, plopping ungracefully beside her and leaning over her body to try and sneak a peek at her writing.

With his chin on her shoulder, she had to jerk upwards and rotate away through her laughter, not wanting to spoil the heartfelt message she had written. At his groan of half-hearted frustration, she flicked her eyebrow at him. “What do you want to see?” She droned, willing to have a little leeway with her closest friends. After all, she had let them read a great deal of her first novel before it was ever published, and it hadn’t stopped them from dipping into their own wallets when it was eventually released in stores.

He gave her what she was sure he thought were his best puppy dog eyes. “I just want to know if she and Gilbert meet again – you’ve left me hanging for over two years Anne! I can’t wait a few more months, I’ve waited long enough!” He whined playfully.

“Oh no you don’t.” Came Diana’s tutting voice from the kitchen, as she got closer to where they sat, sliding onto the other side of Anne and whipping off her oven mitt in the process. “If he gets a sneak peek, so do I! Are we not _both_ your best critics?”

She tapped thoughtfully at her chin, leaving them hanging for her own enjoyment, before resigning herself to the inevitable, laughing along and agreeing. Through their adorable squeals of excitement, she gave them each a deadly glare. “Swear that you won’t breathe a _word_ about this to anybody before it’s released.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“No promises.”

“Cole!”

“Kidding! Kidding!”

* * *

_“Your Majesty?”_

_Cordelia lifted her head from her position at the table, perking up at the sound of Margaret entering her quarters, hands tucked neatly behind her back and head slightly bowed in waiting. She smiled, endeared by the girl’s insistence for proper royal etiquette, despite Cordelia’s own insistence that, within the palace walls, she needn’t abide by such fruitless restrictions._

_“Yes, Margaret?” She inquired._

_Her close confidante blushed at the use of her personal name, something Cordelia had learnt that she had not been referred to as by any of the other noblemen and women she had worked for. “Ah…a suitor is here in the throne-room. He says he is here to see you m’lady.”_

_Not bothering to hide her undignified groan, she lulled her head back against her chair. She thought she had made it perfectly clear that she was not interested in any potential prospects! Despite the obvious fact that she had only broken off the planned engagement with Prince Royal (whom she had never even gotten the chance to meet in person) a year prior, she also had no desire to give any other men the time of day, allowing them to think they had even the slightest chance at winning her heart._

_Her heart would only ever belong to one, but he and his family had long since disappeared from all neighbouring kingdoms._

_Therefore, she had vowed long ago, when her searches turned up empty-handed, that she would live out the rest of her life as a solitary queen, devoting all her time and energy into making her kingdom a far more prosperous and welcoming community._

_Her parents untimely passing should not have hurt her as much as it did – she found that, no matter how distant, cold and cruel they had been towards her throughout her entire life, she could not bring herself to hate them as they laid riddled with typhus on their death beds, passing on within mere weeks of each other. In the midst of those weeks, she somehow found a small part of herself feeling grateful that she had been isolated from them so often, so she had never gotten too attached. Still, losing one's parents would never be an easy thing to go through, she had decided._

_In the weeks that passed in her mourning, she somehow found the strength to attend her coronation, and take up the mantle of queen – being the sole heir of the royal family. As soon as she was in power to do so, she ensured to end her engagement, insisting that she would not be rushing into an arranged marriage any time soon, instead hoping to strengthen the kingdoms’ relationship through an influx in their trading market. Any resistance she had received from traditional members of the village had no legs to stand on when her people saw how prosperous the town's markets were becoming._

_But a year later, she had somehow still found suitor after suitor arriving at the castle, in the hopes of seducing the eligible young ‘orphan queen’ who had somehow evaded marriage. Even if she had not already sworn off her heart to all but a doomed love, none of the men who came to her offered her anything of real value, and she had stated as such – with all the politeness she could possibly muster – when she turned them all away._

_She supposed she should not have expected any less._

_“Must we give him the time of day, Margaret? You know how I dread all of these ‘marital prospects’…”_

_“Actually, he insisted that you would want to see him, my queen – claimed you have been expecting him?” The young woman replied softly. “I figured I should inform you first, in the hope that you were actually expecting a visitor.”_

_Her face scrunched in confusion – she was not, in fact, expecting any guests, let alone any suitors. Intrigued, she supposed it was part of her queenly duties to be as accommodating as possible to outsiders. If not for herself, she owed it to the people of her kingdom to keep up relations with their noblemen and royal neighbours. She stood with reluctance, righting herself and smoothing down her skirt before gesturing for Margaret to escort her into the throne room to greet the stranger._

_As they moved swiftly down the long hallway, she found her mind wandering, as it so often did, back to her long-lost beloved._

_It baffled her to no end how he could have simply disappeared without a trace, but she could never blame him for vanishing as he did. She had great suspicion to believe that, despite being released, he had likely felt frightened for his family – innocent people who were already alienated from the rest of the village as it was._

_Her only wish – aside from the one that she dared not voice, for fear that she would never stop the tears that flowed endlessly every night as she let the dark of night consume her – was that he was safe and happy, wherever he may be. The heartache she had suffered would be all for naught if he had, God forbid…_

_She took a deep breath, not letting that thought run away with her, and swallowed down her emotion enough to compose herself. Instead, as they drew closer to their destination, she thought over the possible ways she could reject the stranger in her throne room, and any way she could possibly sway him to change his mind about asking for her hand – she found it often worked more so in her favour when the men thought that their rejection was actually their own idea. She chuckled with only a hint of mirth, quietly proud of her efforts to stew in her own solitary and melancholy existence._

_Margaret cleared her throat as she stopped at the entrance, leaving Cordelia a clear path to the see the ‘suitor’ that she had so desperately hoped to avoid._

_But all thought processes had ceased function. Cordelia hardly heard her comrade’s voice over the ringing in her ears and clutched her chest violently to try and kickstart her heart – but she had frozen in time._

_There was no possibility…_

_This could not be real…_

_And yet._

_“Your Majesty, Sir…?” Margaret trailed off._

_“Blythe. Gilbert Blythe.”_

_She knew it to be true – but hearing the words leave his lips caused an audible gasp to fly from her mouth._

_He had not seen her standing behind Margaret until that moment, but he alerted to her presence at the loud sound. He swallowed._

_There, standing in all his dashing glory, was the love of her life – but it was not the man she once knew, donning worn, brown vests and rolled up cotton shirts with dirt patches at the sleeves. No – this man seemed to be an illusion, a version of Gilbert Blythe that she had never even imagined. He wore a loose linen shirt, of a finer material and deeper red than she had ever thought he would be able to afford, fitted with a dark brown, leather belt. His pants were far more fitted than any of his farmers trousers had ever been, and his shoes seemed much newer from her brief appraisal._

_His hair was messier than ever, though – somehow, that had only gotten more uncontrollable than before._

_But his eyes – he was the same farm boy she knew. The one she loved._

_His mouth had gone slack at the sight of her, and through the stubborn tears blurring her gaze, she could see the same watery expression reflected on his face. He held his own for another moment, before speaking up._

_“I promised, didn’t I?”_

_Her brain had not wholly come to grips with his sudden appearance, but her heart was far ahead of her, stirring her to pick up her heavy skirt and rush through the open doorway, collapsing eagerly into his awaiting embrace._

_She clung to him as though her life depended on it, and he clutched onto her sides with such a loving voracity that she felt steadied, even as the uncontrollable, joyous sobs racked her body. They both murmured unintelligible words into the others skin, hoping that they could somehow form the words needed to fill the void they had been living in for the past year._

_When Cordelia brought on the strength, she pushed gently back to capture his face between her hands, stroking every inch of his chin, cheeks, forehead, jaw – anything tangible to prove to herself that this truly was not a dream. This seemed so alike to the ones that had consumed her in her grievances that she almost needed more convincing._

_But he was real. She held him. He was with her._

_“_ _You came back.” She whispered to his lips, words lost to the wind as they collided together, two lost souls bound back together, never to be torn apart again._

* * *

“Oh. My. God.” Cole gawked, slowly pulling Anne’s arm around as he listened to her finish reading out the passage, before he broke out into a triumphant grin. “Holy shit, thank you God!”

“So, wait…” Diana questioned, but smiled fondly down at the page, nonetheless. “What happened to Gilbert? Why did he disappear? Why is he dressed up fancy? _Anne, I need answers_!”

Anne only cackled in response, closing the laptop gently and putting it back into her case. “Well, if I told you that, who would be the number one fans going out to buy my book in a few weeks?”

“You are _evil_ , Shirley-Cuthbert!” Cole groaned, knocking his head affectionately against her shoulder, while Diana simply shook her head in laughter, apparently fully accepting the fact that, no matter what, she would still be going out to buy her busom friend’s second novel.

“Moving on, before Cole _murders_ you,” Diana stood, going back over to the counter, where the tray of brownies had started to cool down, leaving them ready to start plating up for the night, “what time are you picking up Gilbert again? Just so we know when everyone needs to be here by.”

“Around 3:30.” Anne chimed in, standing up to join her at the counter, leaving Cole to scurry back to his chosen field of party décor and setup, scampering off to the cupboard to grab the colour-coordinated napkins he had hand selected from the antique store. “That way, we should be back by about 4:30. Gives everyone plenty of time to get here and mingle first.”

“I personally can’t wait to finally meet Delphine.” Cole’s muffled voice came from the cupboard, shuffling through his assortments. “If I have to hear one more cute story, or about how wonderful you and Gilbert say she is, and I _still_ don’t get to see her in real life, I think I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You’ve seen pictures, Cole.” Anne chuckled.

“Yes, your point being?” He poked his head out, giving her an incredulous look. “I’ve specifically said that I’m not drinking tonight so that I can be a good influence and get “fun uncle” status – I don’t give that up for just anyone. So, she better be here.”

“I’ll let Bash know how much her presence is being requested.” She chortled.

“But you must be excited to see a certain someone too, Anne.” Diana smirked cheekily, causing Anne to blush shyly, the thoughts of the incoming afternoon catching up with her.

“Yeah. Two and a half months of Face-timing is _not_ ideal. But it doesn’t matter – he’s coming home now.” She sighed happily, basking in the glory of seeing her beloved in less than a couple of hours.

The room went quiet for a moment, and Cole finally emerged from the stash, spreading the napkins out on the counter beside Diana, and cast Anne an encouraging look. “Are you going to tell him tonight?”

She took a deep breath, reminding herself what tonight was about. “Yeah, I am.” She grinned, still slightly nervous.

“Don’t worry – I know he’s going to be so happy.” Diana jostled her shoulder comfortingly. “Besides, tonight is a celebration! Gilbert’s homecoming, _and_ your new book publishing! I think he can handle a little party for the both of you, right?”

Breaking from the thoughts of her inevitable conversation that she would be having that night, she grinned, looking around the room. “We did say we would need to christen the house with a get together when he got back home…”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s what he meant by ‘christen the house’…” Cole jeered, laughing wickedly when Diana slapped him on the arm.

“ _Cole!_ ” They shouted in unison, bursts of laughter echoing through the house.

“Okay, I’m _not_ sorry for that one!” He chuckled, pointing between the two of them. “You know I’m right!”

Anne grinned conspiratorially to herself at the thought.

_Too late for that ‘christening’._

God, she was ready for him to get home… 

* * *

She stood anxiously in the terminal, betwixt the flocks of arriving tourists and returning locals. Thankfully it wasn’t a busy time of year, so she could find a pleasant spot in airport to sit while she waited for him to arrive. She could also take comfort in the fact she wasn’t likely to be able to miss him in the crowd, since it had started to dwindle since the last plane had disembarked.

She had given up her seat on the bench as time dwindled on, choosing to stand up instead once he was slated to arrive. She insisted to herself that she would be better off from her standing vantage point, making sure she spotted him before he got lost.

But he was coming home. He was so close she could feel it in her bones. She smiled to herself with giddiness, probably looking like a lunatic in the centre of the floor – she couldn’t care less. She had so much she needed to tell him, and so much they had to catch up on in person. There was only so much they could discuss over the phone, especially since she had only just gotten international coverage, specifically for his trip, mind you-

“ _Anne_!”

Her stomach dropped, and she turned around, grasping for her bag on the seat behind her as she recognised the familiar voice calling out to her from the other side of the terminal.

There, with his hair tussled from sleep and his mouth already spread into a relieved smile, was Gilbert – in all his scruffy, jet-lagged glory.

Part of her incessant brain had tried to convince her that he would have changed during his time in Trinidad – that she wouldn’t even recognise him, despite the fact that she continually reminded herself he had only been over there for a little less than three months. She knew deep down that he wouldn’t have changed a bit, and she could now gleefully confirm her suspicions.

She was relieved to see that he had chosen to wear one of his nice sweaters and a pair of jeans for the flight over, instead of opting for sweatpants – hopefully that meant that she wouldn’t have to explain her choice of outfit being a dark emerald dress, with a flared skirt, coupled with a cropped denim jacket and sandals. She was fully intending to down-play her party attire to avoid suspicion, but as she watched him watch her, she doubted either of them would care about that.

She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and paid no heed to the other departing passengers around her as she sped through to meet him halfway in his own mad dash. She let out uncontrollable giggles as she got closer to him and enveloped him in her arms the second that they collided. He wasted no time in lifting her off the ground, spinning her around in his firm grip, his own giddy laughter muffled by the hair falling down her neck.

As he finally plopped her back down to the ground gently, when they had stopped spinning, he pulled away to take her cheeks in his hands. Stroking her freckles in a way that was so familiar to her now, she leaned into his touch longingly, the two of them never taking their eyes off of each other.

“I missed you.” He whispered, a sneaking mirth in his voice as he spoke with an unruly smile.

“I missed you too. So much.” She grinned, placing an innocent kiss to his lips – she knew any more than that would make them completely forget where they were, leaving the people around them in a very awkward situation. Still, he smiled into her lips, and chased them greedily with more of his own affectionate pecks as she departed.

Not wanting to waste time and leave the rest of the guests back at the house hanging, she pulled at his arm, linking it with her own and escorting him through the airport towards the exit. “Hazel sent me a lovely email the other day. Told me all about the great work you were doing at the hospital.” She nudged him gently with her shoulder and squeezed his arm with her available hand. “Gilbert Blythe, you are far too modest for your own good!”

He flushed with a little embarrassment, while she kept nestling him as close as possible to her side. “It wasn’t a big deal…they needed a few extra pair of hands in the birthing ward and had to pick one of the transfers. It was luck, really.”

“Gil, you helped to deliver a baby! That’s not luck – it took a lot of bravery, let alone medical skills.” She pressed an eager kiss to his jaw to solidify her point, as they continued on their path. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Oh, you want to talk about _proud_?” He questioned in mock disbelief, reaching up for the hand that poked out from the crook of his arm and linking their fingers together. “I’m the one with a best-selling author girlfriend, who is quite literally _weeks_ away from releasing her next hit. I think I win this one, sweetheart.”

Now it was her turn to flush red, ducking her head down to their linked arms, moaning self-consciously despite her grateful hidden smile. “Don’t change the subject…”

“Speaking of,” he inquired, settling his lips on her forehead firmly, bringing her to attention, “did Josephine confirm that the third is still on the table?”

She found her confidence again, exhilarated at the thought of her last meeting with the older woman – who had somehow grown to become a dear kindred spirit to Anne. “Better than that – we officially signed the three-book contract!” She squealed softly. “She said she’s so happy with the sequel that she already wants the new one to be put in the works for a trilogy!”

He stopped walking then, gawking down at her in shock. “Are you serious?” He exclaimed, gripping both of her hands and looking positively thrilled. She bit her lip in a smile and nodded.

“That’s my girl!” He shouted, careless to the people around him as Anne shushed him half-heartedly, slapping his arms as he raised them up over his head in triumph. He only looked down at her with undisguised awe. She blanched – she was so grateful he had never tried to mask that look around her. She understood now what all of those looks meant from far before they had started dating; knowing now that she had been oblivious to the emotions in his indecipherable gaze.

“Let’s celebrate in the car, you lunatic!” She used the term with far more endearment than annoyance, dragging him forward and chuckling at his behaviour.

“Alright, alright, I can hold off till then.” He sighed theatrically. “But just so you know, you’re going to have to hold me back from telling literally everybody we know the second I see them.”

“Promise you won’t.” She spoke with more seriousness in her tone, looking him directly in the eyes to make sure he understood. “Nobody else can know for a while – at least until we see how the sequel goes.”

“Oh, please. I have it on good authority that _The Daring Ventures of Queen Cordelia_ is going to be an absolute hit.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“I know you.” The sheer sincerity in his voice sent shivers down her spine. She knew that if she were still in denial, like she was two years ago, it would have sent her into a complete tizzy. Now, she only nuzzled closer as he continued to reassure her. “You’re a brilliant writer, Anne – ignoring my obvious bias.” He added cheekily. “From what you’ve shown me, it’s going to be even better than your first.”

They settled into a comfortable silence – one where they were content to revel in the feeling of finally being reunited, holding the other close to them for as long as they wanted – as they finally reached the sliding doors at the exit, and Anne began directing them towards where she had parked the car, not too far from where they were.

He spoke up as they began approaching the spot. “So, have I missed anything else important? I want to hear everything.”

“Really? Everything?” She questioned incredulously.

“Well, I more so want to listen to your voice the whole way home, so the more stories you have for me the better.” He mumbled into her hair, smile evident in his voice.

“Ah, it all makes sense now…” She added sarcastically, tussling his hair as the car came into sight.

“Mm…” He closed his eyes at her touch, and she was silently amazed at the effect it seemed like she still had on him after all of this time. “Don’t leave me hanging, Anne-girl – anything else I need to know about?”

She hoped that he didn’t notice her swallow and tried to keep her composure as she contemplated telling him right then and there. But she knew it wasn’t the right time – she had planned a whole night of celebrating, and she would let them celebrate both of their successes with their family and friends before she told him. So, before she could blurt out a “yes”, she dove into the story of Ruby and Moody’s engagement: one that he had yet to hear in detail during his time in Trinidad.

All the while, she allowed herself to bask in the wonderful warmth coursing through her veins at their long-awaited reunion. 

* * *

She could hardly contain her excitement as they finally pulled into their driveway. To her relief, the lights in the house had already been turned off (Diana had expertly decided to track Anne’s phone, and had sent her a text letting her know the party was all ready for the surprise), and Gilbert was none the wiser. Unbuckling from the driver’s seat, she took hold of the hand closest to her, smiling wistfully over in his direction, determined not to show a trace of anticipation on her face.

“Feels good to be home.” He sighed, stroking his thumb across their interlocked hands.

“Are you excited to catch up with everyone again?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I have to say, I didn’t think I’d miss Bash’s incessant teasing as much as I did. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Chuckling between themselves, they began packing up their belongings and exiting the car, going to grab Gilbert’s larger baggage from the back. Unbeknownst to Anne, she was positively bursting with excitement; particularly now that she knew he was looking forward to seeing everyone and didn’t seem tired from his journey. Tonight would be the perfect evening. She would make sure of it.

Lagging behind a little and insisting she would wheel his bag through while he took his other, smaller bags and unlocked the front door, Anne watched as he fiddled with his keys and pushed the door open. Blind to the scene he was about to walk into, Anne sidled up as close as she could behind Gilbert, in the hopes that she would get a full view of his reaction. The second he switched the main lights on, she saw a sea of guests popping up from around corners, underneath counters and behind lounge chairs.

“SURPRISE!” They all cheered, laughing at the dumbstruck expression on his face.

Turning to Anne, he tried multiple times to form questions, but nothing came about as his flustered eyes searched hers for answers. His pleasantly surprised smile made her breathe a sigh of relief and cling to his arm.

“Think of this as a little celebration for _both_ of us…” She smirked, as Cole turned the music back on midway through a Maggie Rogers song, and the group bustled with the energy of their successful surprise, leaving the newly reunited couple to talk privately for a minute. “For your wonderful work trip _and_ your homecoming, and for my book release! Diana and Cole helped me to organise it, but everyone wanted to show you how much they we missed you.”

Motionless for a moment, just smiling down at her with his mouth parted and eyes sparkling, he swooped in, planting one of his familiar, passionate kisses on her lips. He broke away far too soon for her liking, but he kept his forehead rested on hers.

“You know I’m going to marry you, right?” He murmured warmly, grinning like a lovesick loon and making her stop breathing entirely. She recovered quickly enough, though – she just hadn’t heard him to say that to her face in a little while. She doubted she would ever get used to hearing those kinds of promises.

“I think I’d be remiss to forget something like that.” She laughed breathlessly, trying to remind herself not to pounce on him right then and there, in front of all of their friends and family.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s coming.” He spoke lowly, pecking her a few more times for good measure, as he noticed Bash approaching him from the other side of the room. Sending her a wink and a grateful smile, he led them further into the room to meet Bash halfway across.

“My brother!” Bash exclaimed excitedly, embracing him firmly as they each clapped each other on the back. “Good to have you back, you big moke!”

“Ah, there it is.” Gilbert shook his head in laughter. “I knew it seemed more peaceful while I was away…”

“Oh please, we all know you’ve missed my _impeccable_ wit! Admit it!”

“He told me something along those lines in the car, just before...” Anne interjected slyly, with Gilbert’s arm still wrapped around her shoulders from when he retreated from his and Bash's hug. He turned to her with wide eyes, a mixture of mirth and faux betrayal as she held back her laughter – Bash did no such thing, letting out a loud peal of laughter as he regarded the two of them.

“Ah, I _knew_ there was a reason I always liked you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” He grinned, as Gilbert rolled his eyes good-naturedly, squeezing her shoulder. “But more importantly, did my mother give you any grief over there?” He joked.

“Absolutely not! Hazel claims I’m her new favourite child, I’ll have you know.” Gilbert smirked smugly, holding his own as his brother hit his arm in retaliation.

“You’ve already nearly stolen my daughter, now my mother too? I’ve gotta be grateful for Anne here, so I know you won’t steal Mary as well!”

The three of them chortled in a close circle, Gilbert warming before her eyes as he got reacquainted with his family once more. The sight was beautiful, and Anne didn’t think she had ever felt more grateful for her chosen family.

* * *

“I swear – this fool came home that day with the dopiest grin on his face, and just kept on denying! Like it wasn’t obvious to everyone with a good set of eyes…”

Gilbert groaned out loud for the fifth time in the last few minutes, as Mary and Anne continued to play dumb and not interrupt the blatant and ruthless teasing going on. “Will you stop it? I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, right?”

“Oh no, Blythe, not nearly enough. That was only on the first day you met the girl! I don’t think I ever got to tell Anne bout the time when you got in the car after that party you went to! This moke was so downright flustered, he was completely silent the entire car ride home! Wasn’t all that silent when he made it back to his room that night though-“

“Uncle Gilby! Auntie Anne!” Dellie ran over to join the four adults, effectively saving her boyfriend from complete embarrassment (though to be perfectly honest, Anne was enjoying herself greatly) as Mary and Bash smiled proudly down at their rapidly growing daughter. It seemed that his little pride and joy was the only thing that could distract Bash from downright _roasting_ his own brother.

“There’s my little princess!” Gilbert exclaimed eagerly, bending down to squat in front of her, meeting her as she jumped into his awaiting arms. Meanwhile, Anne stood crouched behind him, watching fondly as beautiful little Delphine wriggled about in his arms as he chuckled in their embrace.

“My goodness – when did you get so big?” He said in shock as he pulled back, keeping her within arms-reach while she grinned over up at him. “I haven’t been gone for _that_ long, have I?”

“Mummy says that I’m going to be taller than the boys in my class soon!” She cried excitedly, before shifting her gaze back over his shoulder to her newly appointed aunt, who had begun leaning further forward to beckon her into their own hug.

“I better look out, soon you’re going to be even taller than me!” She giggled, smoothing down her plaited hair as the adorable little girl beamed at all the attention she was being showered with.

“Well, that won’t be too hard of an ask, Anne-girl…” Gilbert murmured cheekily into her ear, loud enough for all the grownups in the conversation to hear and chuckle at, and haughty enough to elicit a light smack and a pointed glare from his girlfriend in response. She masked her amusement poorly, though.

He quickly changed topics though, flashing with remembrance and turning back to his niece. “Oh! You won’t believe what your mum just told me, Dellie! Do you wanna know what she told me?”

At his eagerness, she giggled and nodded along.

“She told me that a boy in your class _likes_ you!” He claimed indignantly, but still smiling down at her. The adults all painted shocked expressions on their faces to play along, as Delphine turned red at the teasing comment. She huffed, shaking herself off and holding her chin high into the air.

“I don’t care – Jack stinks, and he just pulls my hair all the time – and I don’t want him to be my boyfriend, not ever!”

“Yeah, I think boyfriends are off the table for a while, sweetheart…” Mary cooed.

“More like forever…” Bash replied lowly.

“I don’t want a boyfriend anyway! All the boys are so gross! I told all my friends that, but they wouldn’t believe me!” She crossed her arms defiantly, looking very proud of herself. She looked over at Anne, all wide eyes and dimples. “So, I told them what you told me!”

Anne quirked an eyebrow, leaning closer to Gilbert while they both squatted in front of her, finding any excuse to enjoy their reunited closeness. “And what was that, Dellie?”

She grinned, bounding closer and putting her hands on the woman’s knees to balance herself at a closer distance. “Remember? You told me that I don’t need to have a prince! I can be a princess all on my own!”

As the words left her mouth, Anne could only gape down at her with the beginnings of tears pricking behind her eyes. She couldn’t believe that this wonderful, beautiful girl had remembered something she had told her years ago, that had seemed so much less significant to her up until that moment.

_God, she was so excited to have kids._

She couldn’t hold back a grin at the thought.

Thankfully, she could play it off as a response to Dellie and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “That’s exactly right, Princess Delphine. You are already the most magical princess in the whole world.”

While the girl bit her lip, and Anne became more aware of the three pairs of eyes watching the duo with outright endearment, she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “I didn’t tell them that you were a fairy princess, though. I can still keep a secret.”

When the small family had quickly vacated the room after their conversation to take their daughter to the kitchen, Gilbert rose with her and placed an arm around her waist, breathing in the scent from her hair as they took their own moment to snuggle together and observe the bustle of the party.

“You’re going to make the most wonderful mother someday, Anne-girl.” He whispered, planting yet another kiss to the side of her head.

She smiled – not wanting to make eye contact with him in the moment, she settled for watching the empty space in front of them where Delphine just was. She leaned further into his touch.

“Yeah. Someday.”

* * *

“I’m just surprised we could manage to pry him off you. The guy’s been basically attached to your hip the entire night!” Tillie giggled, champagne flute in her hand and a mischievous twinkle in her eye that told Anne that she didn’t necessarily see that as a bad thing.

“What did you expect? Blythe’s been away for months, and he could barely handle not seeing Anne for a _day_ before he went overseas.” Josie smirked, taking a sip of her own drink. Anne was grateful that Diana and Cole also hadn’t been drinking that night, to make it feel slightly less awkward and strange that she wasn’t either.

“We’ve just missed each other, that’s all.” Anne blushed, scrunching her mouth up into a crooked smile as she tried not to look over at him where he stood, engaging animatedly in a conversation with Marilla behind the group in front of her. She just _knew_ that she was rubbing off on him.

“Okay, you guys are so cute, it’s almost sickening, so let’s move on for one second.” Jane interjected, her usual good-natured snarky-ness returning, much to the groups delight. “I have some exciting news!”

“Billy finally moved out of your parents’ house?” Josie sneered, as everyone laughed along with her at the thought of the _idiotic_ brother that Anne had unfortunately finally met. Needless to say, she was not amused by his…let’s call them ‘Neanderthal-like’ beliefs.

“Nope.” She rolled her eyes, before continuing. “Prissy’s getting married!”

The girls all made excited squeals of shock at the news – Anne had gotten to know her friend’s older sister a little over the years, at least before she moved out to France to start her own interior design studio. From what she had heard, her business had become an immense success in a surprisingly short amount of time, but she hadn’t heard anything from Jane about the older girl seeing anyone.

“Since when? When did she start dating again?” Diana voiced her concerns before the words could leave her mouth.

Jane could only grin wider. “Get this – she didn’t want to say anything until it was serious, because she didn’t think that our parents would approve. Prissy’s seeing a _woman_ – her name’s Winnifred Rose!”

Anne visibly blanched in recognition of that somewhat familiar name. “Winnifred _Rose_?”

Jane regarded her redheaded friend with obvious confusion. “Yeah, why? Do you know her?”

She couldn’t stop herself from letting out some light laughter at the hilarity and irony of the situation. She knew if that name had been brought up earlier on in her and Gilbert’s relationship, when he had initially told her about the woman, she would have felt threatened at the intimidatingly perfect picture she painted in her head. But now, she could appreciate the universe’s funny way of somehow connecting everyone she knew.

“I might have mentioned her before…” She chuckled, glancing around at her friends intrigued and confused faces, leaning in for some good quality gossip. “I think Gilbert dated her when he was a freshman at med school.”

“ _What_?” Ruby shrieked with amusement, as the other girls made similar sounds of shock.

“It’s not a big deal!” She insisted. “He told me they just saw each other for a month or two when he got to college, when they met in one of his advanced classes – they ended things as friends. It all makes sense though, because the last thing he had heard from her was that she was moving out to Paris for this huge apprenticeship opportunity. That must be how she met Prissy over there!”

"You’re kidding.” Josie deadpanned, a slow smile spreading on her face. “Finally, some drama!”

“Oh, hush!” Diana smacked her arm playfully. “We all know that doesn’t change a single thing!”

She theatrically sighed, failing to hide her amusement with an eye roll. “I know – as if Blythe could ever see _literally_ any other woman. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; the guy is _whipped_.”

Never one for the spotlight among her friends, and not wanting to dwell too much on the topic and make it about her and Gilbert, she quickly shifted topics. “Speaking of – Ruby, let’s see that ring!”

Flushing prettily, before proudly jutting out her hand, Ruby looked every bit the queen she deserved to be treated as.

And with that, they were successfully diverted – for now. 

* * *

“Attention everyone! Attention!” Cole tapped a spoon to his glass dramatically, garnering the attention of the entire party within a few seconds. With the conversations quieting down, Anne turned from her conversation with Marilla, a confused smile aimed at her sober, yet still dramatic, best friend. He only grinned back at her with a wink, straightening up at his spot closer to the front door by the main living area.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests and second graders…” he indicated down to Dellie with a flourish, leaving her blushed and giddy in Bash’s arms on the couch. Continuing on with his dramatics and leaving everyone laughing in the wake of his pomp and ceremony.

“I think it’s time for a little toast. But I don’t think my skills as a painter are going to come in handy here, so I think I’d better hand it over to my party-planning partner in crime – the lovely, Miss Diana Barry.”

Playing along with the fanciful nature the night was taking, everyone whooped and applauded as Diana walked up with a saunter that told Anne they had been planning this beforehand. Giggling at her two best friends’ antics, she clapped along and tucked herself further into Marilla’s side to try and hide her face from them.

In the meantime, she felt a chin come to rest on the other side of her body in the crook of her shoulder. She would know that splendid chin anywhere. Leaning her head over to rest on the side of his head, she exhaled happily when Gilbert pressed a quick peck to her cheekbone and settle onto her other side to complete the picture-perfect family image around her.

She tried to not get caught up in it all and refocused as Diana started speaking, Cole watching on beside her.

“As I’m sure all of you know, tonight was to celebrate our good friend Gilbert’s return home. And I think I speak for everyone when I say that is wonderful to have him back with us.” She smiled over in their direction. “But, tonight was also to celebrate our dear Anne’s success as well, which I’m sure you also know. Because, in just a few more weeks, A.S. Cuthbert will be releasing her latest book, _The Daring Ventures of Queen Cordelia_!” A round of cheers erupted from the room, even from her parents, right beside her, Gilbert’s whoop leaving her nearly heaving with belly laughter.

“No spoilers everyone, but I think it’s going to be even better than the first. But of course, I wouldn’t know, so nobody is allowed to ask me what happens. Because I have absolutely no idea. And if I did, I would have been given strict instructions not to tell you anything.”

While everyone laughed, she caught her busom friends gaze. “I thought it would be a good idea to invite our dear A.S Cuthbert up to the stage, since clearly none of us can do her words justice.” She raised her eyebrow hopefully. “Anne?”

Sighing contentedly, she broke out of her familial embrace, and came up to join Diana and Cole at the front of the room, distantly hearing the sound of her friends egging her on and Gilbert whistling in the background, as she enveloped the two of them in side hugs and sidled herself in between them.

“I mean…” she trailed off, allowing her eyes to wander round the room over the various faces that she had become so fond of. It was hard to believe that so many of these people had been complete strangers to her up until only a few years ago. She had thought it over so many times in her moments of gratitude, and remembered each and every time, with a start, that without Gilbert she may have never gotten the pleasure of knowing half of those faces – let alone how important they could all become in her life.

“…Honestly, I don’t think I want to stand over here and talk about the book. Not when I can look around this room and thank my lucky stars that I know all of you, and that I get to call you all part of my family.” She trembled slightly with the weight and truth of her words but ensured that she didn’t let her emotions overcome her over something so joyful. “I just want to thank you all so much for being so supportive for all these years – I most certainly wouldn’t be here today without every single one of you. So…just thank you. Words rarely fail me this much, but I promise you that I can’t express how much you all mean to me.”

The coos, whistles, and blown kisses in her direction from her group of girls in particular, filled up her heart more than she thought it could be filled. She caught Marilla’s eye, sucking in a steady breath to control herself when she saw tears reflected in her adoptive mother’s eyes, smiling over at her with unabashed love.

“Cheers to Anne!” Gilbert called out, catching her gaze once again, as he lifted up his own flute for everyone else to follow. She giggled breathlessly, watching as everyone raised up their glasses, clinking them together with the people around them and taking a celebratory sip after shouting out in response, “To Anne!”

She saw Ruby bringing up some champagne for her to join in and didn’t see Diana and Cole’s panicked looks beside her – clearly, neither did Ruby. Without thinking, Anne shook her head good-naturedly, refusing the drink politely before speaking up. The cheers had simmered down at the same time, thinking that 'Anne The Hostess' was going to make another address.

“No thanks, Rubes.” She smiled, laughing a little at the situation. “I’d love to join, but obviously I won’t be drinking for a while…”

The minute the words left her mouth, her eyes widened comically, and she clamped her mouth violently shut – the sound of her teeth clashing together at the impact vibrated in her ears.

If those words weren’t a giveaway, her reaction _definitely_ was.

Ruby had looked at her in confusion before she came to the realisation of her implication within a few seconds. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Diana and Cole grab each other, her palm coming up to cover her mouth and his shoulder rising suddenly with tension.

Slowly forcing herself to look around, she knew that everyone had heard her, and it didn’t take a genius for them to deduce what she was unintentionally referring to. The only person who didn’t have their mouth hung open in shock was little Delphine, who seemed none the wiser despite the obvious shift in the atmosphere of the party, and was content to just dangle her legs from her father’s lap.

With the scariest fate awaiting her on the other side of the room, she turned back to face Gilbert. Like everyone else, he looked completely shell-shocked – but she realised with some relief that there was some kind of glint in his eye. Whatever it was, she knew that she had gotten better at reading him, and it didn’t seem like he was upset, or even worried. No, instead, it just seemed that he had been caught off guard, and was cautiously approaching her, like a zookeeper trying not to spook a skittish gazelle.

He was still halfway cross the distance between them when he spoke up in the gentlest voice she had ever heard, the entire room hanging onto his reaction.

“…Anne?”

Despite the trepidation there, she swore she could see the hint of a smile splaying at the corner of his mouth – it gave her the courage to speak up at the same quiet volume. She forced herself to bite back her all-consuming smile.

_She was ready._

_She just had to blurt it out._

“I’m pregnant.” She whispered. “Two and a half months.”

For one soul-crushing moment, he didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle, he didn’t even make any kind of sound in response. She heard some of the other guest’s gasp – even though she was sure they had figured it out beforehand, she supposed it felt very different to hear the words actually confirmed, right from the horse’s mouth – but she hardly registered them.

Then, to her delight, his face lit up completely within a few more seconds.

“You promise?” He murmured – a phrase that had become both nostalgic and familiar to them through the last couple of years. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, Gilbert – I promise!” She spoke louder. “You’re going to be a _dad_!”

With a disbelieving, breathy laugh, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her high into the air, leaving her squealing and giggling as she clung to his neck for stability, and he spun her around in circles. The rest of the party seemed to let loose a collective sigh of relief, watching in amusement as the normally cool and collected Blythe finally let himself go in front of the entire party.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He exclaimed heartily, pressing his head into her stomach from where he held her to him. He looked up to her as he finally brought her back to the ground slowly, cupping her face to look into her eyes. She noticed the slight tear tracts down his cheeks and tried to wipe them away with her thumbs, but he was pulling her in for another crushing embrace within only a couple of seconds. _“We’re going to be parents!”_

The first loud cheer they heard, that broke them out of their fierce hold, was from the couch, where Bash had gotten out of his seat, Dellie still in his arms.

“I knew it, I knew it!” He shouted out, dancing with a giggling Dellie, before turning back to Mary, who sat, burying her head in her hands and laughing at her husband’s antics. “Didn’t I tell you Mary? I told you she had the pregnant glow – I _knew_ it!”

With that, the entire room erupted with noise – the girls immediately swarmed her and Gilbert, with Ruby being consoled through her excitement by a relieved and overjoyed Diana and Cole, Moody, Bash, Mary and Dellie came over to Gilbert’s side to congratulate the pair, and Marilla watched on from the sidelines, not wanting to crowd the couple anymore but enjoying the thrill that she would be becoming a grandparent.

She found her among the crowd of friends she had been kissing and hugging and felt her heart tug when she realised that this was the first time she had been told as well. She hadn’t planned on telling Gilbert until the party was over, and then she had hoped to plan an entire dinner with the Cuthbert-Blythe-Lacroix extended family to announce the news, but things had, of course, not gone exactly to plan. Still, she couldn’t find herself being upset or disappointed with the turn of events. After all, she probably should have expected by now that something wouldn’t go exactly to plan – it was par for the course for her life at this point.

With a quick look back to Gilbert to silently tell him what she was doing, he nodded in understanding, giving her look that told her they _definitely_ weren’t done for the night, before letting go of her and letting her gently break through the group to envelop her adoptive mother in a hug that surely took the breath out of her.

 _It was perfect_.

* * *

The night had been a complete success. Though, she shouldn’t have ever expected anything less – as if Cole and Diana would have settled for anything less than a perfect evening under their jurisdiction. Needless to say, they had been ecstatic in congratulating her for handling the whole ‘accidental pregnancy reveal’ thing so well, but Anne found that she could hardly function for the rest of the get-together. It seemed Gil was having a similar problem and had made no move to leave her side for the rest of the night after she returned to him. Not that she was complaining – having Gilbert’s arm tucked snugly around her waist was just enough to keep her upright.

If it were possible, everyone’s mood seemed to have lifted even more so after Anne had broken the news. Bash had effectively tackled Gilbert with a bear hug when he had gotten him away from the rest of the group, giving him a few gentle punches to the gut in “congratulations”. Dellie eventually figured out why everyone was so excited, when her mother explained to her that Anne and Gilbert were going to become parents, “just like her mummy and daddy”. With that information, she had bounded up to Anne with the energy and excitement that only a child could bring to the party, leaping into her arms when the woman bent down to meet her on the ground again. She could only be coaxed down from her excitement when Anne promised she would have to wait a while before she could meet the little one, but when she did, she would get to hold them all on her own.

The girls had been in utter shock – although Tillie insisted that she noticed a pregnant glow about her, but simply “chose not to point it out. Do you know how _rude_ it is to ask someone if they’re pregnant?” – and had refused to go home for the night until they heard the entire story (well, Anne decided she would exclude certain details of _how_ it actually happened. That was between her and Gilbert, she thought.) Thankfully, while Anne oriented herself again, Diana and Cole swooped in to save the day, answering all of the questions that they possibly could to save her the job of retelling every single detail. She did get a lot of enjoyment out of listening to her friends jabbering about excitedly, though, and it warmed her heart to see how genuinely excited they were for her.

The only person who had the slightest indication of not being entirely over the moon was Moody, who spoke to the couple with Ruby once things had actually settled down. While he congratulated them and joined in with Ruby’s excitement at meeting a little Shirley Cuthbert Blythe (a mouthful, he had commented jokingly), she thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head at his fiancé’s enthusiasm at how much she wanted a child as well, and how she had inspired her to start thinking about baby names. After that, he shot Gilbert a look, silently telling him “I blame you”, before coaxing her back to the ground by ensuring that they could start trying in a year or two, once they got married.

That being said, as the clock struck 11, and the party effectively started to wind down for the night, Gilbert had been virtually pushing the last of the guests out the door with ‘thank you’s and promises of catch ups as soon as possible – but he didn’t bother with those promises when Bash was the last person standing by the door, nearly yanking him out of another brotherly embrace to shove him out of the house, flinging the door shut.

With that final close of the front door, he wasted no time before rapidly turning around to face Anne, who had long since stepped away from the entrance to watch his frantic display with an endeared smile. A mischievous grin slowly appeared on his own face as he took her in, and only a few seconds passed between them before he practically dashed towards her, pulling her into his arms again and crashing his mouth against hers.

Finally relaxing herself, she melted into him immediately, sighing loudly against his lips and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to meet him head on. He responded the second she reciprocated his advance, lifting her up into his hold for the third time that day, allowing her to wrap her legs wantonly around his waist as he grabbed a hold of her thighs, walking blindly in the direction of their bedroom through their lustful haze.

She’d missed this – she had missed everything about him while he was gone, obviously (how could she not?). Their quiet nights, where he would study his medical textbooks on the couch – a habit he hadn’t ever dropped after he finally graduated from medical school and got junior position placement at a practice in Charlottetown – with Anne’s feet tucked into his lap, while she stretched out longways across the seat midway through one of her chapters. Their nights where they would celebrate a particularly good week with a night in of red wine and Monopoly and would end up with fake bills and board pieces scattered around their bedroom by the end of the night, board tossed to the side of the room and score count long forgotten. Their Sunday afternoons on the porch swing, cuddled up and talking about the future while fiddling with each other’s fingers.

But getting to be with him in the most intimate way – a way that nobody else would know him now – gave her both a rush of thrill and excitement, and a settling comfort in her gut. It reminded her of how right the world now was, of how it always felt slightly off its axis when Gilbert wasn’t around, and how she thought moving in with him this past year had definitely made that disorientating, lonely feeling so much more unbearable when she was alone at night.

But there was no need to dwell on that anymore. He was here, and currently, he was kicking _their_ bedroom door open from its ajar spot and guiding them to the foot of _their_ bed.

Content and able to hold her weight with one arm, he shifted around, bringing one arm up higher to wrap fully around her middle, while the other slid up her body, finding purchase in her hair and carding its fingers through her loosely curled locks. As he ran his digits through them, she felt him smile into their kiss, and didn’t bother resisting the urge to tighten her hold around his waist, pressing herself into him and eliciting a gruff moan in the back of his throat. It seemed that the small action made him completely lose himself, as she felt him go off balance with a startled grunt, and she squealed lightly in surprise as he fell backwards onto the mattress, taking her with him and leaving her straddling him in his new position.

Reluctantly breaking their kiss, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud when she opened her eyes to see him staring breathlessly up at her, an embarrassed, wide-eyed expression on his face. Within a moment, he had joined her in her laughter, and she had bent over and tucked her head into his shoulder to muffle her noises, the mood definitely disrupted.

Collecting herself, she came back up to face him, bringing both hands up to cup his cheeks as he lay beneath her. Her giggles slowly subsided into silence, leaving her smiling broadly as he slowly joined her in their silence. She heard his quiet, sharp intake of breath – her hair cascading down the sides of her head and creating literal tunnel vision around his face.

It was hard for her to convince herself of what that look truly meant, but after the last few years, she had accepted it for what was actually behind his eyes in these moments – he was watching her as though he _worshipped_ her. He’d likened her to the sun multiple times, and though she couldn’t understand where he would ever come up with that idea, but that didn’t mean she didn’t nestle closer and press an appreciative smooch to the underside of his jaw in acknowledgement of what his affections really meant to her.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” She whispered, breaking the silence once more.

“I missed you so much.” He squinted up at her, taking her in for a little longer, while she breathlessly chuckled.

“You said that already.”

“Well, I meant it.”

“I know. I did too.”

Craning his neck up to meet her in a far tamer kiss than before, she stroked his temple lovingly, before pulling back. Ignoring his look of playful dejection, she scooted up to lay on the pillows set at the head of their bed, leading him to come up and join her before she had even finished patting the spot beside her to bring him back to her. Tangling their legs together absent-mindedly from their close proximity, she thought back to the events of the night. He must have somehow read her mind, because eyes went southward down her body, reaching her stomach with a lingering stare. She read the look in eyes and very nearly jumped him on the spot.

Ducking her head to catch his attention, she raised her eyebrow with a smile of anticipation. “You want to feel it?”

She thought she heard him sniffle softly, before he briefly nodded and reached a tentative palm out. After waiting for him to reach his destination, she gave in to the impatient part of her brain and gently brought his hand to rest on her stomach. She remembered how scared she had been that she might start showing before Gilbert got home, which would mean she would have to tell her family and friends, and likely tell the actual father of her child over Skype. Not ideal. Thankfully, she had yet to start showing, and she hadn’t even finished her first trimester yet, so nothing had changed greatly in her overall appearance.

“You know that we definitely won’t be able to feel anything yet, right?” She grinned at how eager he had been.

He smiled softly, with a quiet bout of laughter, but never took his eyes off her stomach. “Yeah, I know. I had to help _birth_ children in Trinidad, Anne-girl. I would hope I knew a little about pregnancy.” His hand ran in caressing circles around the area, and she stifled a trembling sigh at the contact. When he went to speak again, she heard a slight crack in his throat.

“I just can’t believe it.” He said. “I know we’d talked about it, but it hadn’t even crossed my mind that the last time we saw each other…”

“Yeah, looking back, we weren’t thinking very clearly, were we?” She giggled, fondly looking back on their last few days together before he left and growing a little hot at the memory of that fateful, _long_ night.

“No regrets, though?” He looked back up to meet her eyes, a little worried but hopeful. Not letting him get caught up in those feelings, she pressed a quick peck to his lips in reassurance.

“None at all. I think we’re ready.”

He grinned in response, scooting further forward to reciprocate with his own short kiss, but filling it with as much love as he could possibly manage. Moving back down to face the other object of his affections, he smiled across at her belly again.

“I think we might have a girl.” She murmured.

“Hm?” He responded, quirking an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve just got this weird feeling. I could be wrong, but…”

“Any potential names yet?” He asked, genuinely interested as he turned slightly to lie on his stomach and rested the side of his head carefully onto her ribcage.

Sifting one hand through his dark tresses, playing with all the little curls she could get her fingers on, she hummed the affirmative. “Maybe Amelia? I always liked that name. Or Amelie, either would be so beautiful, but I suppose we’ll know when we see her. Or him…”

“I’m guessing Cordelia is on the table?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and slapping him gently on the arm. “We’ll just see. I would hate for her to have her own tragical romance one day.”

"Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” He insisted, shuffling back up to wrap his arms around her and bring her into his chest. “Some might say that our romance was a little tragical…”

“Oh?” She inquired, smirking up at him from her comfortable spot just beneath the line of his jaw.

“If she’s anything like her mother, though, she’ll figure it out eventually.” He added cheekily.

Chuckling into his shirt, she spoke against his vibrating chest as he laughed along with her. “We were both idiots, we’ve been over this!”

"I know, I know…one more name suggestion, but you’re gonna hate it.”

“Well, now I’m intrigued. Go on…" She looked back up at him, almost daring him to come up with a name that would truly annoy her.

“…Is Carrots completely off the table?”

“ _Gilbert Blythe_! You fiend!” She guffawed, lifting out of their embrace and grabbing the pillow from beneath her, swinging it around to come into contact with his face. He let out a startled yelp, breaking out into laughter as he reached blindly around to try and grab her waist, while she continued her playful onslaught. “You didn’t learn the first time not to speak that name?”

Somehow, in the chaos and laughter of their childish play-fight, he finally managed to grab a hold of her waist, pulling her off the mattress for only a brief moment, as he dragged her across to sit on top of his lap, where he now sat upright. As she settled herself in place, allowing herself to give up the fight for now, she swivelled to mirror her position from earlier, straddling his hips as she faced him head on. The same thrilling heat wasn’t there, but the moment was just as tender – if not more.

He clearly felt it too, as he held her close to his chest, his chin almost poking into her collarbone from how close he was. Grinning softly up at her, he spoke.

“I would propose to you right now if I could.” He said, an almost tortured edge to his gentle tone.

For the second time that night, he somehow caught her off guard, despite the fact that she knew it wouldn’t be too long before he inevitably popped the question (if she didn’t beat him to it).

But his comment still confused her – this was the perfect moment for them. They didn’t need some big, public display to show how much they loved each other. It was an indisputable fact that they had become deeply rooted in each other’s lives, and there didn’t need to be fancy dinners or expensive gifts to prove how important they were to each other. She knew that they were in this for good – that this was it for the rest of their lives. She knew that the moment that they finally got together, and that hadn’t changed from then on.

“What’s stopping you?” She asked seriously, not worrying that her party dress had long since become crumpled and messed up around her, and that her denim jacket sat discarded by the bedroom door.

He shook his head resolutely, never taking his eyes off of hers. “I just want it to be perfect.”

“But it _is_ perfect, Gil.” She insisted, scratching the back of his neck in the way she knew comforted him. “ _Anything_ you do will be perfect.”

Smiling despite himself, he cocked his head to the side, still looking at her with wonder alight behind his gaze. “I know, but I want it to be special for _you_. You deserve everything, and I made a promise to myself a long time ago that, _when_ I proposed to you,” he smirked with the implications of how long he had been planning this whole thing, and she didn’t hide her blush, “it was going to be that ‘everything’.”

“Do you not think that you’ve already given me everything that I could possibly want?”

“I just know that I don’t have the money right now to afford the lifestyle you deserve.” He sighed. “I know there haven’t been any sunbursts or marble halls…” he trailed off, laughing slightly.

“I don’t need sunbursts or marble halls, Gil.” She cupped his face to make him see how serious she was being. “I just need _you_.”

After a few seconds of silent bliss passed, he pressed a kiss to her palm, and murmured into her hand, as if he were trying to plant the words into her skin. “Promise you’ll let me give you a good proposal, though? For my sanity, at least?”

A breath of laughter between them, she agreed. “Okay. For you – and I’m sure, whatever you do, it will be positively _wonderful_.”

“Well, whatever I do,” he tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially, “you can expect it _much_ sooner after tonight.”

“I’ll have you know, Gilbert Blythe,” she said, punctuating his name with a poke to his nose, to which he responded by scrunching it with a poorly hidden grin, “there’ll be no shotgun weddings in this household.”

“No shotgun wedding – I promise.” He assured her solemnly.

“Hmm…” She pretended to examine his face for a moment, before leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “I think you just want me to be pregnant in my wedding dress.”

Somehow, his grin widened at the idea. “Well, I’m not opposed. You’ll look beautiful whatever you wear, so why not show off our little miracle?”

“Wouldn’t it be even better if we got to really see them on the big day, though?” She pulled back to rest her forehead on his, the idea making her light up. “Marilla could hold them in the front row so that we can see our baby the whole time…”

He hummed softly, voice sounding like it was off somewhere in a dream. “Our baby.”

Settling into a comfortable moment of silence – Anne holding back any loose tears from falling, purely because she didn’t want him to worry, but deep down she knew he was doing the same – she rested her head against his shoulder, tucking her nose into the crook of his neck and slowly allowing her eyes to flutter closed. She imagined what that would really look like, seeing their baby while they got married.

She didn’t think she could imagine anything so wonderful.

“What if it’s a boy?” He inquired quietly, as they were both reminded of the fact they had almost forgotten.

She pulled back once more, a small, shy smile playing on her lips. She _had_ thought of that, actually.

“I was thinking…maybe _John_?”

She felt him stop breathing beneath her, but his face expressed nothing but awe. The topic of his dad had gotten much easier throughout the time she had known him, so she had hoped he might like the idea.

“Even if we have a girl this time, maybe…when we eventually have a son as well, we could name him John.” She probed anxiously, gnawing her bottom lip between her teeth.

When he came back to himself, he shook his head in slight disbelief.

“God, I love you.” He rubbed her back unconsciously, as she broke out into a blinding smile and leaned forward, meeting him halfway for a far more passionate kiss.

“I love you too.” She whispered against his lips after they broke apart (a lengthy period of kissing later).

After a few more minutes of cuddling, she regrettably realised they still had to change out of their day clothes before they went to bed, and got up from her position agonisingly slowly, pulling him up with her to make sure they didn’t have to put much distance between them. They changed separately, staying close by each other and passing clothes back and forth to be put away – already getting back into their domestic routine – and before long, they hopped back into bed, this time pulling back the covers as they sidled up close.

It wasn’t initially what she had expected to happen that night, but it was all she really wanted.

“Hey…” he whispered, after they exchanged a few more kisses for good measure and had begun to slowly drift off, “I didn’t get to read the book yet.” He pouted adorably, and she could somehow still find the energy to pull herself up from where her head lay on his arm and peck him between the eyes, before settling back down.

“Don’t worry, you can read it tomorrow. Cordelia’s not going anywhere.” She beamed.

“Perfect.” He mumbled through his own smile, nuzzling down to leave his mouth pressed against her forehead.

Right before she slipped into her dream state, and at a volume so quiet she wondered if he even heard her, she mumbled into his neck.

“I think you’ll like the acknowledgment.”

* * *

**_The Daring Ventures of Queen Cordelia_ **

**_By A. S Cuthbert_ **

_This book is dedicated to my muse – the real Gilbert Blythe. Thank you for believing in me, and for believing in us. Here’s to the rest our not-so tragical romance – a story with no ending._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know how to properly close this out. 
> 
> You might have noticed that I've turned this into a series, because I've been inspired by a few comments to make at least one more story related to this, focusing on a different perspective (more for giggles than anything, but there will definitely be a heaping of FLUFF and a tiny bit of angst) so keep an eye out for that, but I won't be posting for at least a few weeks while I finish my last exam for the semester. I also might continue with some different, future one shots, but that's a maybe - if you have anything in particular you want to see from this series, let me know in the comments!
> 
> Other than that, I wasn't totally happy with this entire epilogue, but there was a lot I wanted to fit in - which is obvious since this the longest chapter by a MILE. 12k words hello???? What??? - and I didn't want to leave out too much. Some stuff is left unanswered because I couldn't find a way to incorporate it properly, but my main point was to cap off Gilbert and Anne's story nicely.
> 
> Part of me was tempted to do another proposal like I did last time, but why not spice it up a bit? Again, want to preface that I've never been pregnant, so no first hand experience there that I can go from! But the main focus is more on the actual relationship anyway, and we can all try and guess whether or not they were right about having a girl... ;)
> 
> I've already said this, but thank you all for reading this story! I know a lot of you have been here right from the beginning, or came over from my other story, and some of you read all of it in one day later on eheheh :) but I appreciate you all!! You are the sweetest people ever and I'm very grateful that you enjoyed this random thought that came to me in a sleep-deprived haze at midnight.
> 
> So I guess that's all I needed to say? I love you all and I hope to see you in the comments of another future fic, or around our little awae archive group Xxxx
> 
> LOVE YA

**Author's Note:**

> chat with me in the comments if you want, isolation is lonely for pretty much everyone so let's talk and lift each other up right now :) xx


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